Good Morning Sunshine
by la femme de l'abime
Summary: COMPLETE! A new member joins the Las Vegas crime lab's night shift, when she catches one CSI's eye, mischief will surely ensue. GregOC. First fanfic PLEASE r&r!
1. Chapter 1

Intro:

"Good morning sunshine," a soft voice whispered in my ear as the scent of coffee greeted my nostrils.

I gently roller over, running my hands over my face and through my hair to asses the damage done by the night before; quickly deciding how long to lie here in ecstasy before sprinting to the bathroom for my makeup bag and a brush. If they really wanted to keep teens from having premarital sex they should have just told them that your boyfriend would have to see you when you woke up. For the last six months getting over this fear has been my greatest feat.

Deciding that whatever damage that the previous night's romps had done to my once pin straight hair would have already been seen, damn Greg for being such a morning person, I slowly sat up. My eyes began to adjust to the dark as I took in my surroundings, even if it had been almost a year of working night shift at the Las Vegas crime lab, I still missed my usual late nights and even later mornings which I had grown accustomed to during my summer off between finishing university in Surrey and moving here in the fall. Surely it hadn't been almost a year ago…

Ch. 1

The sun streamed in through my window as the sound of my alarm clock shattered my once perfect dreamy silence. I rolled out of bed and scurried across the room to shut it off and stop it from waking my parents. While it may not have been the coolest thing to do, living at home with my parents and younger sister during university, it really did help with my finances. Today was graduation day; I had finished what felt like an eternity at the school of Criminology here in Surrey, one of the most prestigious schools in the field. Despite the knowledge that in two short months I had the job of criminal profiler waiting for me in Vegas in the fall, I still felt a pang of nervousness that there had some how been a mistake and I was really failing and someone else's transcript had been sent to Vegas and as soon as I stepped up to the podium to except my diploma and make my speech it would all fall to pieces.

I let my doubts melt away as I rehearsed my speech in the shower, substituting bottles of shampoo and shower gel for an audience. I ran over it again as I donned my gown and cap in front of my bedroom mirror, as I had back in high school when preparing for presentations and oral reports, and once more in the car on the way there. I took a deep breath as I put my Volkswagen Passat, a product of years and years of babysitting and an after school job at the local coffee shop, into a parking space of the university's "STUDENTS ONLY" lot for what would probably be the last time. It really did seem like only yesterday that I been dropped off here, nothing but a nerdy freshman, the scent of high school past still on me. Things had changed so much since then. After spending what felt like an eternity in high school, lusting after boyfriend after boyfriend, getting hurt and getting over it; I decided not to sacrifice my grades and reputation for a few wild nights and was intent on keeping these standards in my new job in Vegas.

Before I knew it I had reached the assembly hall, it was time. As I took my seat next to yet another unfamiliar face I reminisced on how in high school you knew everyone and everyone knew you, but even after so many years in university I knew only a handful of people. As I sat in my seat time flew by, hardly allowing my nerves to take over. The headmaster regained his place at the podium and began his introduction, before my mind could register what was happening my legs began to carry me across the stage, I took out my notes and began to address my speech to the Simon Fraser University of Criminology class of 2005.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hi everyone, thank you so much for sticking with my writing up until this point. I really hope you enjoy it; I've never done anything like this before so I'm completely open to anything you have to say. I promise this chapter has more CSI stuff! Please R&R

Ch. 2

Like countless others before it the summer flew by. I graduated, packed my bags, said multiple tearful good-byes to friends and family, and left for Las Vegas; leaving armed with a few phone numbers of relatives of friends and friends of relatives in the area, a few bags and boxes, and my cat, Bob in tow. As a kid I'd moved a lot, so the procedures to follow were nothing new to me, yet they were slightly unnerving when done alone. Bob and I loaded into the car and drove off towards the border, leaving the country, my family and my old, young life behind; it was at this exact moment that I realized I was no longer a teenager, but an adult.

Leaning over across the car I consulted the map on the passenger seat for what felt like the hundredth time. Being able to navigate myself through cities was something I prided myself in, it was a trait I'd inherited from my father, aside from his dark hair, fair skin and long lashes, a sense of direction was something I had always had, and used. Finally I had arrived at the Las Vegas crime lab, a lot harder to find in the dark than during the day. I parked the car, despite the nerves which took hold of my hands allowing them to shake with fear. I took one final moment in the car to regroup before heading in to meet my new supervisor, Gilbert Grissom.

As I opened the doors of the crime lab I was hit by a burst of cool air, the air conditioning must have been on full blast to combat the lingering summer heat. I made my way down the hall towards what appeared to be the receptionist's desk, a curly haired, flustered looking woman sat at the desk answering phone call after phone call. 'What an endless job,' I thought to myself, giving her a look of sympathy, 'at least my cases eventually come to a close, those phones never stop ringing.' My job at the coffee shop was quite similar, in places like these it's always rush hour. My thoughts were interrupted as the woman began to speak.

"Welcome to the Las Vegas crime lab, how may I help you?" For someone who appeared to be so flustered she defiantly knew how to make everyone feel just as important as the next person.

"Hi, my name is Stephanie O'Neil, I'm supposed to be starting here today as a Criminal Profiler," I spoke all in one breath, so quickly I knew she must have picked up on my nerves right away.

"Hi Stephanie, nice to meet you. You'll need to clip on this visitor's badge until you're issued your own by your supervisor, who is…," she said scanning down a list on her computer screen, "Mr. Grissom, oh you'll like him, he's a little off, but a genius none the less." I could tell no one talked to her much; she seemed pleased to have a little bit of human interaction. "Mr. Grissom's office is just down the hall, last door to your left, just past the DNA lab, he's out on a case right now but is due back any minute now, his door's usually open so go on in and wait for him."

"Okay, thank you," I bid my farewells to the friendly receptionist and headed down the hall. Glancing down at my id badge, I hardly realized the man running down the hall in the opposite direction clutching a piece of paper in one hand as if his very life depended on it. I looked up just as it was too late, we collided. I dropped my purse causing it contents to spill across the hall. "Perfect," I muttered to myself, 'this, is exactly how I wanted to start my first day' I cursed inwardly, not wanting to give away my newbie status to this new character.

"God, are you okay?" the man asked. On second glance, he appeared to be about mid-twenties, with spiked hair, and deep chocolate brown eyes.

"Ya, ya, I'm umm…fine…thanks," I said searching for the words, hoping he hadn't realized that I had been staring at him in awe. There was no way that someone this gorgeous worked at a crime lab. He was probably a messenger or a delivery guy.

"I'm really sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, I just…oh god, is that really what time it is, never mind I'm late anyways," the nameless male model/delivery guy/possible lab rat stated exasperatedly as he leapt up and hurried down off the hall again. My god he was weird.

I cautiously approached the night shift supervisor's office and stepped through the threshold. The office before me looked like nothing I could have ever imagined. The desk was a mess, papers everywhere, surrounded my multiple book shelves containing what appeared to be fish tanks full of a variety of types of bugs. A fear of bugs and all things typically classified as 'icky' was something which I'd struggled to get over since taking my first 'Forensic Sciences 101' course, but this was pushing it. I came closer to the edge than I have since I started my training in university when I saw a tiny fetal pig floating in a glass jar. I took a giant step back and bumped into the second, and surely not the last person, of the day. "Whoa," I let out a gasp, a combination of surprise from the fetal pig and crashing into yet another person.

"And who might you be?" A steady voice questioned from behind me. I twirled around to face a man in his mid fifties, with a graying beard.

"I'm so sorry, just barging in on your office like this, the secretary said to go on in if it was unlocked and it was so, well it's my first day and I'm a little nervous"

"Yes I can see that, but you still haven't told me who you are," he stated simply.

I took a deep breath, hoping to avoid another outburst of run on sentences, "Stephanie O'Neil, I'm the new profiler for night shift, I'm usually not like this, it's just new job, new city, it's all a little much for me right now."

"Stephanie O'Neil, I'm Gil Grissom, your new boss on night shift. Come with me, I'll show you around, introduce you to the team and then we'll get you a new id badge," he stated calmly and composed.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Oops, I've been forgetting to do these, anywho so far I'm saving up to buy CSI, until the fateful day comes (at which point I will write myself into the script and Greg will fall madly in love with me and we'll go riding off into the sunset, tra la la), I don't own them.

Ch. 3

Gil Grissom, my new supervisor, led me down the hallway, which on either side were glass walls containing people running around, running tests and breaking down results to tired looking CSIs. It reminded me of those buildings where they put people in different environments and study them. I was waiting for the giant mad scientist to reach down from the ceiling and pick on of us up for observation. As we got closer to the break room where Grissom, as everyone referred to him as, said that most of his team should be, noises grew louder. I could hear what sounded like video games combined with what I assumed to be multiple percolators. So it wasn't just my professors, I thought to myself, who had very specific tastes in coffee. I remembered one morning when Professor Collins burst into the classroom looking at each of us accusingly, claiming that someone had stolen his stash of Starbucks Christmas blend coffee. Apparently criminalists covet their coffee like librarians covet their books.

Upon seeing the look of confusion on Stephanie's face Grissom spoke up, "we make the break room as close to home as possible, since some of the cases are very stressful for the team, they need a place to relax and unwind."

"It reminds me of the rec room in the university dorms," Stephanie spoke up for the first time since bumping into me in my office. She appeared to be very nervous; I hadn't had time to go over the transcript that Eckley gave me, so until I could get a proper chance to sit down and go over her position with her, I'd have to make do with observations. She looked to be about mid-twenties, rumor had it she was fresh out of one of the most prestigious criminology schools in the continent. As I walked her down the hall, lost in my own train of thought, she spoke up for the second time, "So what effects did you find that the radiation had on the fetal pig?"

Amazed that someone knew what the fetal pig was for; most people thought it was another weird fetish like my bugs. "Most of the effects were long term, such as tissue cell multiplication and organ damage. How did you know that's what it was for?"

"One of my professors in university had one just like it, a friend of yours actually, he was the one who found this job for me," she stated matter of factly.

"So you knew Randy Minlasoes," he stated reminiscently, "we both worked as interns at the city morgue together through high school."

"He always spoke very highly of you, said we'd work very well together," she spoke with an educated manner of speaking. Before I could respond to this we were at the break room. I motioned to Stephanie to enter ahead of me, but something had stopped her dead in her tracks.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI; I only like to pretend that I do.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reading so far, this chapter is a little bit longer, I've been trying to make the next ones longer, but if I don't make them short, then they're really really long. Please r&r, thanks! Enjoy!

Ch. 4

Grissom put his hand on my back motioning for me to enter ahead of him, but that was when I saw HIM: the nameless male model/delivery guy/possible lab rat. He abruptly dropped the video game controller he was holding causing one of the cars on the screen to roll of the track and into space. His opponent, a tall male with a gorgeous, creamy smooth Texan accent, leapt off his chair and let loose a defiant whoop. Despite the commotion the male model/delivery guy/possible lab rat's gaze never left my shocked face. Aside from Grissom, who was standing behind me, he and I were the only ones left standing. The other people in the break room divided their attention between Grissom and myself standing absent mindedly in the doorway, and the Texan's triumphant outburst.

"Okay everyone," Grissom finally spoke, breaking the silence, "this is Stephanie O'Neil, she's a criminal profiler fresh out of SFU, she'll be working with us from now on. Stephanie, this is Catherine Willows," he began introducing me to the rest of the team, motioning to a slender red head, "Sara Sidle," a tall brunette with a wide, friendly grin, "Warrick Brown," a tall, well built African-American man with amazing, almost green eyes, "Nick Stokes," the jubilant Texan, "and last but perhaps not least Greg Sanders, our newest CSI," he finished his introductions motioning to the male model/delivery guy/possible lab rat. So, this stunning stranger was a CSI, now that's something I never would have thought of. While I was contemplating the newfound status of Greg, Grissom had begun to speak again, "sorry to be so brief but I need to get Miss. O'Neil her id badge. Until then, new case assignments in an hour," and with that Grissom led me out of the room, back towards his office.

We went in silence all the way to his office. Feeling a need to break the tension I spoke up, "Mr. Grissom, Professor Minlasoes said that you knew sign language quite fluently, have you kept it up?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I have. Do you sign yourself?" He questioned.

"Yes," I signed back, "One summer in high school I took a job babysitting for a little boy who was deaf. In order to communicate I had to learn to sign, ever since then I've kept it up as a hobby." Grissom seemed delighted in my ability to sign, he responded using the same.

"My mother was deaf; it was the only was we could communicate. I've found that it has proven to be very useful in solving more than one case." Grissom signed in response. Just then his pager went off, he switched back to vocal communication for the rest of our conversation, "Your id badge is ready, I can go down to the print lab to pick it up, if you'd like you could wait for me in the break room and get to know the team better. Then I'll come down and hand out case assignments."

"Sure, sounds like a plan," I responded, eager to get to know the rest of the team. Despite the fact the first impressions can give away a lot about a character, it's the second impression that gives away the most about a person.

The break room had regained its usual hubbub of percolators and video games mixed with the sounds of tension being released in the form of laughter. As Stephanie re-entered the break room all five heads turned to face her. Greg's mouth once again, hanging open in disbelief of the beautiful girl before him. "How long are you gonna stand in the doorway? Come sit with us," it was Nick this time who spoke up, pouring a second cup of coffee as he spoke, handing it to Stephanie.

"So, what's your story?" questioned Catherine, innocently enough.

"Wow, that's pretty hard to cover," I started, not knowing where to begin.

"Well, just start from the beginning," Catherine replied, "where're you from?"

"Okay, well, I was born in Alberta, moved around a few times in there. From there I moved to the west coast, my dad's a priest so we were always moving here and there. So I studied Criminology at Simon Fraser University in Canada, it was there that I met Dr. Minlasoes, who knew Grissom, and he got me this job." Before I knew it I had practically given away my life story.

"Wow, well I'm Catherine Willows. I'm from Montana. I'm a level three, second in command."

Sitting next to Catherine, Warrick took this as his cue to introduce himself, "I'm Warrick, Vegas, born and raised," he said in a warm, smooth voice.

After Warrick came the brunette with the wide smile. "Sara Sidle, San Francisco. I transferred here about six years ago."

Jumping from the table to the coach across from the television the Texan took his turn to introduce himself, "Nick Stokes, Austin, Texas. And that just leaves Greggo here," he said with a thick southern accent motioning to the young CSI on the coach next to him. Who, up until this moment had been speechless.

"Oh, I'm um…Greg," he spoke as if reading off a cue card, almost in point form, "I'm from California," his gaze darted from his lap to Stephanie's eyes. Her gaze scanning the room, taking in her surroundings, coming to rest on Greg. Everyone noticed the immediate connection between the two of them.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own the rights to CSI, and am also Crowned Ruler of the Universe!

Ch. 5

Stephanie put her keys in the lock to her new apartment, opening the door to reveal mountains of boxes. Just as she threw her keys on the table and her purse on the coach a tiny grey kitten darted out from under the coach and began rubbing himself all over Stephanie's legs. "Well hello Bob, did you have a good first day?" Bob purred in reply. "Well, it doesn't look like you've destroyed any furniture…yet," she said, leaning down to give Bob a well deserved scratch behind the ears. Just as she walked into the kitchen to put some water on for dinner the door bell rang. "Who could that be Bob? Are you playing tricks again?"

Stephanie walked over to the door, nearly tripping over Bob on her way there. She opened it cautiously, wondering who would know where she lived, she'd only moved in two days ago. 'It's probably some kid in the building selling cookies or something,' she thought to herself reassuringly. She breathed a sigh of relief as she opened the door, revealing a familiar face. "Greg, right?"

"Ya, hi, sorry to come over unannounced like this," Greg began, nerves rattling his voice as he ran a hand through his curly, surfer-guy type hair, "but you left your id badge at the lab, and I figured it would be pretty hard getting in tomorrow without it."

"Wow, thanks so much, you really didn't have to do that. Please, come-BOB!"

"What?"

"Bob, my cat he just ran out the door, I'm sorry I have to find him, he doesn't know the neighborhood, he might get lost!" Stephanie slurred in a panic.

"It's okay; I'll help you find him. This happened to my dog when I moved here. Okay, let's check this floor and then head downstairs. Just take a deep breath, it'll be okay." As he said this Greg took her hand and guided her down the hall. "If we rush we'll just spook him," he explained. A sense of calm waved over her as he put a reassuring hand in the small of her back.

Fifteen minutes later Stephanie and Greg returned to her apartment, Stephanie cradling Bob in her arms, cooing to him softly. "Thank you so much," she spoke, this time to Greg instead of the tiny cat, "I don't know what I would have done, Bob's kind of my everything right now, if anything had happened to him, God…I don't even want to think…" she trailed off, lost in Greg's gaze. She set Bob down gingerly onto the couch. "Please, come in for a cup of coffee, have you had dinner yet? I was just about to start some mac n'cheese, I'm afraid to say I'm not much of a cook, even when I am unpacked."

"Really, I don't want to intrude-" Greg began to insist.

"No, no, it's the least I can do, you helped me find Bob. At the very least you can let me make you some dinner," Stephanie tried to persuade Greg. She could see him beginning to give in.

"Okay, but after this I owe you a coffee."

"Alright, it's a deal." Stephanie decided, turning on the oven to boil some water.

Two hours later Stephanie, Greg and Bob sat on some Stephanie's couch having had used some extra boxes as tables. Stephanie spoke up, "I'm afraid I'm not much of an unpacker, whenever I moved as a kid my sister and I were in charge of our own rooms and mine was always the last one to be unpacked."

"Well it's settled then, as repayment for the wonderful dinner I'll help you unpack," Greg said defiantly as he picked up his plate, carried it into the kitchen and began to unpack a box labeled MOVIES: living room, in Stephanie's neat teacher-like writing. "Well," he began, as he picked up several DVD's out of the box, "I do believe we have ourselves a movie buff," he said to Bob motioning to Stephanie.

Over the next few hours Stephanie and Greg got to know each other a little better while unpacking box after box of movies, cds, and dishes. "So you're a California boy, eh?" Stephanie questioned.

"Yes," he responded, "and by that 'eh' I can assume you really are Canadian."

"Very funny Sherlock," Stephanie spoke as she stifled a laugh, "so where did you go to school?"

"Well, not quite as reputable as Simon Fraser," Greg began bashfully, "I went to Berkley." After a period of silence Greg spoke up, "so what moved you to study murderers and deviants?"

"Hmm, let's see…well, being a priests kid I grew up around death, it just became an average, normal, everyday thing. After school I played at the funeral home, what else can you expect for that kind of a childhood? Then after one of my classes Dr. Minlasoes saw me signing with one of the other students, he was intrigued so he invited me out to coffee, and he told me about a friend of his in high school who could sign. It turned out that friend was Grissom and he put me in touch with the lab here. So by the time I graduated I had a job lined up here as a profiler. So tell me, what's your story?"

"Well, I've always been quite the science nerd. So a career in science came naturally, this seemed to fit the bill. There's always something new, something exciting, it's always insane trying to get work done, but the move to the field has been a good one, it's a thrill to get to see a case all the way from beginning to end, instead of just connecting a few dots for Grissom and the team."

The evening continued on to that effect and in a few short hours Stephanie and Greg were stretched out on her couch with Bob lying proudly across the laps of the sleeping pair. After giving up on unpacking Stephanie and Greg decided upon watching IT. Stephanie, declaring it was one of her favorite movies, despite the horrible ending, was shocked to find that Greg had never seen it, thus demanding that he watch it with her. Roughly half an hour into the film Stephanie had grabbed Greg's arm in fear of the evil sewer clowns and he graciously comforted her, encircling a strong arm around her shoulders. From there the two drifted of to sleep, only to be awoken by Stephanie's alarm clock in the other room a few hours later.

"Is that…roosters?" Greg questioned groggily.

"Yes," laughed Stephanie bashfully, "my sister bought it for me as a joke after declaring that not even roosters could wake me."

"I see," pondered Greg, "well, I guess that means it's time for work then."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, I merely meddle in the pretend lives of their characters. If anyone who does own CSI reads this, I'd really like Greg for Christmas.

Ch. 6

The last of the evening sunset beamed through his office window as Grissom absentmindedly gazed over lab reports from the past few weeks. He couldn't help his mind from wandering over to his newest team member, Stephanie. She wasn't like most of the kids fresh out of school these days, she seemed sure of herself and mature. He picked up her transcript, which Eckley had thrown at his desk two weeks ago while lecturing him on the importance of keeping up to date with his paper work. "Let's see what we have here," Grissom said, suddenly unaware that he'd been speaking his thoughts aloud. As he read further into the transcript he saw that Stephanie had a 4.0 all through school, chair of every committee anyone could list, the rest of the transcript read pretty similarly to this. Grissom leaned back in his chair, impressed. It seemed that he had found a 'rare talent', as the note left by his old friend and colleague read, 'Miss. O'Neil has the ability to converse with anyone, learning their cards before even revealing that she is playing the game…an asset to any investigation team.' All Grissom needed was a nod from his old friend, this would more than suffice. She was in.

A black stiletto protruded out of the door of the black VW Passat which had just drove into the crime lab parking lot. Following it was the rest of the new girl, Stephanie O'Neil. Greg sighed to himself, watching her from the break room as he poured himself a cup of his coveted Blue Hawaiian coffee. He couldn't believe how easily he'd let his guard down with her the night before. Nick and Warrick, who'd worked with profiler's before on cases where the FBI were involved, warned him that that was how these types worked, they let you do all the talking without even knowing it. Despite all this, Greg didn't feel fooled or betrayed as he may have expected, he felt intrigued that this girl had captivated him so effortlessly in one night, and all it took was one little cat named Bob. He chuckled to himself, reminiscing to the panic stricken look on her face as the cat flew out the door. Then he smiled at the memory of how he felt with his arms wrapped around her as she sat there, terrified of the evil sewer clowns from below. Come to think of it, they never really had finished watching that movie; maybe this would give him an opening for a second 'date'.

Sara stood in the doorway of the break room, having had just arrived herself. As she stood the she watched Greg, he was staring so intently out the window, she wondered to herself what could have captured his attention so furverently. She cocked her head to the side; she could have sworn she just heard him giggle. It was good to see Greg happy again, ever since he passed him final proficiency the team had seen a different, more adult side of Greg; he'd stopped spiking his hair, and started dressing more like a proper adult. It was strange; when he was in the lab he was so exuberant that there were some days when the others would have given anything to see a mature side of Greg. But, now that that side of Greg was gone, Sara missed the old Greg; she hadn't realized that it was the old Greg that kept everyone going. The old Greg was the one who kept the really hard cases from getting to everyone; he'd even brought a smile to Grissom's face from time to time.

Warrick sat in his Tahoe, saying his final goodbyes to his new wife before heading in to the lab for another shift. "I know baby, I love you too," Warrick insisted, "I'll miss you more, okay, love you, bye baby." Marriage had been a new experience for Warrick, he was used to having a girlfriend, but a wife was a whole different story. It wasn't that he didn't like being married to Tina, he hadn't been happier; he just had to adjust to some changes. Hanging up the cell phone, Warrick sighed as he gazed out the window. There she was, the new girl, Stephanie something or other. She wasn't half bad, young, probably about Greg's age, come to think of it; Greg hadn't really been with anyone in a while. She was defiantly cute, probably Greg's type. Talking to her yesterday in the break room she seemed to be quite educated, she spoke with dignity and skill. She used big words, but naturally, not in the way when people are trying too hard to impress someone and wind up using them in the wrong context. Despite the hour she spent getting to know the team in the break room, the rest of the team didn't really know much about her. Warrick pondered to himself, he wondered who Grissom would pair her with out in the field.

Nick opened his locker throwing in his jacket and pinning his id badge to his button up shirt. It was only September so he was still in short sleeves. He missed fall in Texas, despite having lived here for over ten years, he still felt a pang of home sickness from time to time. These thoughts brought to mind the newest member of their team, Stephanie. She had left all her family, quite similarly to him; still he hadn't left the country. Remembering that she was from Alberta, he wondered if she had a background with horses. Horses were something he'd always been around, growing up on the farm he'd become accustomed to being around large animals. While other members on the team slightly gave away a hint of panic when dealing with horses or the occasional cow, Nick felt at home. He grew up mucking out stalls, and doing random barn chores after school, so some of the more physical side to working as a CSI never got to him. Along with horses came a certain favoritism towards country music that you could only obtain from growing up on a farm. Nick sighed as he leaned up against his locker, reminiscing about home. He stood up, sure that his day dreams of home had him hearing things. Surely it couldn't be, he thought to himself, country music in the lab? The lab hadn't heard music since Greg moved out to the field and took his Manson CD's with him. Just as Nick turned he caught a glimpse of a brunette head peaking in through the door.

"Is this the locker room?" she asked.

Catherine sighed as she closed the last file folder and tossed it onto the 'OUT' container on her desk. It was only then that she saw Stephanie, the newest team member walking down the hall with Nick. Nick was talking excitedly, explaining how they had cracked one of his favorite cases, where a scuba diver had been found in a tree. She watched the two, strolling down the hall. Stephanie reminded her of a mixture of Sara and herself when they were younger, she was tall, slender, and she had the obvious body and grace of a dancer. She had dark, pin straight brunette hair with a fair complexion and deep blue eyes. She looked like the type that hadn't been that pretty in high school, but once she hit adulthood she had grown into her features. As Catherine stood up and peered out her office door to watch Stephanie and Nick enter the break room she couldn't help but notice the look on Greg's face as she entered.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, but my birthday is in a few days if any of you are still stuck on what to get me.

Ch. 7

"_Represent, represent, CUBAAAA!_" Stephanie sang as she danced through the break room, positive that no one was there; everyone was out on assignments. She swung her hips to the music, raising her arms above her head. When she was in high school she took salsa lessons in order to really '_get into_' the character she was assigned for the school play. Since taking lessons she'd developed a taste for salsa music. She'd never had a chance to pursue her dancing past high school, so the only chance she had to keep it up was in the kitchen when no one was watching. She spun around, bending backwards as if being dipped. The song switched on the mp3 player attached to her waist. She sang out loud, "_So mami get a little loose and make your hips swing_," swinging her hips to and fro as she _1-2-3ed_ around the room. Leaning back again she sang, "_it's like you climax mami when I dip you, ahhh_." She slowly straightened her back, moving only one vertebra at a time; moving _under_ the music as her favorite dance teacher had taught her. Once she'd reached half way she tipped her head back dramatically for the '_ahhh_'. At that exact moment she opened her eyes to see Greg standing in the doorway, his jaw hanging open, stunned.

As soon as their eyes met Stephanie lost her balance and began to fall. Greg dove and caught her dramatically, like in an old fashioned movie when the heroine faints and the handsome stranger catches her. Stephanie gazed up into Greg's eyes, her cheeks burning with the realization of just how long he could have been standing there. "I'm sorry; I didn't think anyone was here. I thought everyone was out on assignments." Stephanie rambled on bashfully.

"No, don't be. You're an amazing dancer," Greg looked away as he said this, "I promise I wasn't there long, I just didn't realize until you saw me that I was well…"

"It's okay," Stephanie bit her lip nervously. She suddenly became very aware that Greg was still holding her in the 'classic movie position'. "I think you can let me down now."

"Oh," it became apparent to Stephanie that he hadn't been aware of their embrace either. It was just then that Warrick and Nick walked into the break room to find Greg dipping Stephanie so dramatically. Each did a double take of the pair, frozen as if someone had pressed a mythical pause button.

"So Greg, we send you back to the lab to get a head start on DNA results and you turn the break room into a scene from Casablanca. I told you we couldn't trust him on his own Warrick," Nick began to tease Greg, pulling in Warrick for the kill. Greg immediately led Stephanie back into her natural position.

"I think he's just been working too close to the chemicals these days," Warrick taunted. Greg's face grew red.

"We were just, umm…" Greg searched for a reasonable excuse.

"Rehearsing for the lab's play, duh." Stephanie cut in. Greg sighed in relief, silently reminding himself to thank Stephanie for saving his ass.

"You know Warrick," said Nick, "I think this new girls okay," he said as he playfully punched Stephanie on the arm. She reciprocated, using years of kickboxing training, knowing he could take it. Nick's face fell, then rose again into a broad smile, "scratch that, I love this girl!" Stephanie smiled in satisfaction. Nick and Warrick left the room as once again Greg's jaw came in danger of hitting the floor. Stephanie giggled as her pager went off. 'GRISSOM' it read. She sauntered out of the room, turning back to look at Greg once more.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: If I owned CSI do you really think I'd be here writing about it on a fanfic site? No, I'd be making scripts for the show, casting myself as the amazingly gorgeous new girl who catches Greg's eye, and well, read on for the rest.

Disclaimer II: Nor do I own the rights to the songs "Represent, Cuba!" or "Dirty Dancing". Those belong to the Orishas, Heather Headley, and the Black Eyed Peas.

Ch. 8

Grissom was elbow deep in paper work, reminding him again of why he was constantly avoiding it. Just then Stephanie knocked on his door, "Grissom, you paged me?"

"Yes, Stephanie, come in. Tell me, what experience have you had with the FBI before?"

"Well, sir, none really, nothing outside of text books and study cases."

"Okay, here's the story. There's a serial killer that just made its second attack in Nevada. So far the state of California tracked four hits. With it crossing multiple states the case is transferred to the FBI, the lab will still be involved but all information goes through me then the federal agents. In the past, the FBI has not dealt well with my team, so you'll have to be aware that they've been scarred before. Basically, we need you to start profiling this guy as soon as possible, here's the file, and the agents will be arriving in two days."

Stephanie felt a rush, it had always been a dream of hers to work her way up to the FBI. "Thank you sir, I'll get right on it." Stephanie beamed, she couldn't wait to call home and tell her parents the great news. With that she left Grissom's office, a smile still plastered on her face. She made her way to the break room, half expecting Greg to still be there gob smacked. Instead she found that the room was empty. She sighed, opening the blinds, letting the moonlight stream in through the window. She tried to focus on the series of murders that were laid out in the folder before her but her mind kept drifting to Greg. How he'd held her for what seemed like forever. She couldn't believe he'd caught her dancing in the break room. She sat bolt upright, suddenly aware that someone was watching her. She turned around, praying that it wasn't Greg again. Instead, this time it was Catherine.

"Hey Stephanie, how's it going? I heard Grissom passed on that new FBI case to you." Catherine bubbled kindly.

"Yah, it came as kind of a shock. I didn't think he'd hand of such an important case to me just like that."

"Trust me, it's a good sign. Grissom doesn't take chances when dealing with the FBI. He can't play politics, so he plays it safe. If he gave you this case, it means he trusts you with it." Catherine seemed sure of what she was saying, not as if she was trying to comfort Stephanie.

"Gee, thanks. So, have you worked with the FBI before?" Stephanie asked, innocently enough.

"A few years back, it wasn't pleasant. The lab didn't want them, but the sheriff did, so they weren't exactly welcome to begin with." Catherine pondered as if reminiscing, "so tell me, what's this I hear about you and Sanders?"

"Honestly, I couldn't tell you myself. I'm just as lost as the next person, is he usually like that?"

"In all my years of working with Greg I've seen him go through his fair share of girls, but honestly Stephanie, this is different. He's usually kinda cocky around girls, not in a bad way, but he's always been the 'kid brother' around here, so he liked to show off. I swear half the lab is singing your praises for quieting Greg. He's one of the sweetest guys you'll ever know-"

Stephanie cut her off at this point, "you know you sound like you're trying to sell me on him," she said half joking, half confused.

"Basically," Catherine giggled, "the other side of having the annoying kid brother is that in the end you just want to see him happy. So far, since he's been out in the field he's been under a lot of pressure trying to fit in with the rest of the team and ever since you started here it's like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders. Nick even swore he heard Jesse McCartney coming out of his head phones. You'd be good for him, just consider it. And plus, if rumors are true, he'd be good for you too." With a wink Catherine smiled and left the room. She crossed paths with Nick on the way out. In passing she whispered to him, "I think she likes him back."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, but to those of you wonderful, gorgeous, brilliant, amazing, fantastic and all around great people who do, could I pretty, pretty please with cherries and whipped cream on top, have a tiny piece. (Greg will suffice).

A/N: I had tons of fun writing the last scene of this chapter. For optimum results, I would suggest reading it while listening to 'You Don't See Me' (which by the way, I don't own) by Josie and the Pussycats. Enjoy! And don't forget to review, please!

Ch. 9

The next two days flew past. Stephanie spent them absorbing herself in what the FBI had classified as 'The West Coast Copy Cat' (WCCC). She really thought that they'd come up with far better names in the past. The WCCC took past murders done by more infamous serial killers and copied their MO's. In the past year he had committed murders modeled after those including Manson, Jack the Ripper, and Hamolka. It was hard to see someone modeling their life after some of the darkest, sickest minds of the past or present. It was getting hard to determine what would classify the crimes of the WCCC or just another copy cat. Manson had had a cult following, what's to say that it wasn't another one of his 'murder groupies'. It wasn't until the third time that the WCCC had struck in California when their CSI's noticed that the killer had marked the wall with blood that didn't belong to the victim, but the victim of the last murder.

So far, Stephanie had determined that the WCCC had low self esteem, he hadn't been capable of plotting his own murders. This also signaled that he had no more than a high school education. He probably fit the deviant's triad: he'd been a victim of sexual abuse, was a bed wetter, and committed acts involving cruelty to animals. This was more of a given, it was difficult enough to find who'd murdered six people in two states, never mind going around checking to see who wet their beds at night. The WCCC is a loner, antisocial, but never liked that fact. He craves attention, but lacks the ability to seek it, normally. Stephanie glanced up at the clock, seeing that her break started in fifteen minutes. Deciding that she had done all the work she could for now she packed up her files and made her way to the break room to see if the team had gotten back from the field yet. Normally she'd be out in the field by now, but with the FBI arriving in a few short hours Grissom wanted her to do all the work she could, that he could arrange for someone to cover for her.

Upon entering the break room, Stephanie found that the rest of the team had just arrived back from the field. Greg was poking fun at Sara's hair, which was blown straight up towards the sky. Stephanie looked at her questioningly. Sara sighed and explained that they had found the murder weapon in an air conditioning duct, but unfortunately the victim had been the only person in the building who knew how to turn off the air flow, thus resulting in her new hair style. Stephanie stifled a laugh, secretly glad that she had been assigned to desk work.

"So Stephanie," said Nick, "you about ready for the FBI? You've been submerged in the file for three days now."

"Almost, I'm a bit nervous about working with profilers of that level. They've got serious experience. I've hardly even been out in the field yet." With that she winked at Sara, "although, that does have its upsides." Everyone laughs, including Greg. Noticing this Catherine and Nick nudged each other, each trying to conceal a wide grin. Grissom broke the laughter with his grim announcement.

"Okay team, the WCCC has struck again, and the FBI agents have just arrived at the police station, they'll be here in about fifteen minutes." The team perked up at this announcement, some looking a little paler than usual. Turning his attention to Stephanie, Grissom said, "I can assume you've been over the file and have a sound profile for our killer Stephanie."

"Of course, I just finished." Stephanie said breathlessly, shocked that the agents were arriving so soon.

"Good," he said, turning back to the rest of the team, "I want everyone in my office in fifteen minutes for a debriefing with the agents." With nothing more but a quizzical glance at Sara's hair he left the room.

Fifteen minutes latter the team was gathered in Grissom's office when three agents entered the room, two male, one female. Each wearing a simple black business suit. The female was stunningly gorgeous, not in a subtle way, but in an Angelina Jolie way. Nick, Greg and Warrick starred, living in Vegas beautiful women were not a rarity, but this was something else. Following the agents was the sheriff, puffing up his chest to appear stronger, and less like the spineless press-monger he really was. "Grissom, Grissom's team," he said, nodding to the team gathered in the corner, not bothering to remember their actual names. "These are agents Raditick, Minali, and Vernada." After sucking up to the agents he left to set up a press conference.

The female agent, Agent Vernada, was the first to speak. "We've profiled the West Coast Copy Cat, and have determined that he doesn't fit the average copy cat, nor does he fit the deviance triad. We're not dealing with the average serial killer; he's of above average intelligence with significant influence in the communities in which he's struck." Stephanie's face fell as she listened to the agent contradict all of her findings on the killer. She moved to speak, but Greg instinctively grabbed her hand, signaling to her to stop. She looked at him quizzically; he mouthed 'later' and turned his attention back to the drop dead gorgeous agent, as she continued. "What we need to do, it alert the public of the West Coast Copy Cat's appearance and typical targets." Everything she was saying struck Stephanie as she was someone's main target in a twisted game of dodge ball. Even the fact that she used the WCCC full name got to her, who the hell has time to use the full name all the time, she thought angrily. How could she warn the public of the killer's typical targets, he copies a different serial killer each time? What are we going to do, tell the public to look up every serial killer's type for the past two hundred years?

She knew that Greg must have similar thoughts running through his head at this point in time. He'd spent the past few of his breaks running through the killer's profile with her. He knew that the agent was contradicting all her work from the past three days. She hadn't slept since Grissom gave her the file.

Greg masked a look of pain as Stephanie dug her nails into his hand. She'd been gripping his hand ever since he'd offered it to her when the gorgeous agent started talking. He knew that Stephanie had her hopes up for working with the FBI. He also knew that this debriefing went down hill as soon as Agent Vernada said called the WCCC the whole name. He stole a look at the fallen face of Stephanie beside, it looked as if she was fighting back tears, he gave her hand an affectionate squeeze and she responded by digging her nails deeper into his hand. Before he knew it the agents had finished debriefing the team on their findings and had left to join the sheriff in his press conference. As Agent Vernada left the room Nick and Warrick did little to hide their adoration, craning their necks round the corner to watch her leave. This earned them each a playful slap from both Catherine and Sara. Just as Greg turned to comfort Stephanie and remind her that Agent Vernada probably didn't get to her position purely by intellectual skill, but it was too late, she'd already scurried off down the hall. Grissom turned to his team with a sigh, knowing that this was not going to be an easy case to handle. Unfortunately, as he began to speak, he looked to see that the only person left in his office was Hodges. He turned his back to him, not ready to deal with more ass kissing from Hodges.

Greg ran down the hall to the break room, hoping to find Stephanie there. The only people there were Catherine and Sara chiding Warrick and Nick for being such 'men'. Ever since her divorce from Eddie, Catherine had been a lot more confident about speaking her mind, especially when it involved men. Greg ducked out of the break room before Catherine and Sara could turn on him. Next, Greg checked the locker room. He slowed his pace as he entered, just in case she was there, he didn't want to appear overly eager. Finally, he found her, sitting on the bench in the middle of the room, crying softly. He approached her slowly, sitting down next to her. Wordlessly he placed a hand on her back. She turned and put her head against his chest, sliding her arms around his neck as her cries quickly turning to soft sobs. "Shhh," Greg cooed, "it's okay, they don't know what they're talking about."

"I always wanted to work with the FBI," Stephanie said lifting her head off of Greg's chest, "and before I've even finished my first case I've screwed up. Not a single one of our observations matched up. I should have just quit while I was ahead." Stephanie laid her head back down again, her sobs returning.

Greg was speechless; he'd never dealt well with girls crying. Before he could just shrug it off, writing the girl off as being weepy. But, this was different, this was Stephanie. She wasn't just some date crying over another sad movie, this was _her, _and she was upset. Every fiber of his being wanted to make her feel better; it hurt him to see her like this. It was at that exact moment that he realized that she was something more. From then on Greg sat there in the locker room, holding her and wiping away her tears.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Only in dreams do I truly own CSI.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I love you all! Please, keep 'em coming!

Ch. 10

Ever since that day in the locker room the entire team had noticed how close Stephanie and Greg were becoming. No one noticed more than Catherine and Nick, who had been rooting for them from the beginning. Eventually, after a few weeks of working with the FBI Stephanie grew to learn to take the agents as one would with a younger sister, eager to help you with your physics homework. They're sweet, but really, they don't know what they're talking about. Even after taking such a rough beating, Stephanie's confidence sprung back and she learned to work behind the agents as had the rest of the team.

Stephanie let her head finally rest against the table top, pushing aside her stack of files. She was pulling her third consecutive shift, since that day in Grissom's office the WCCC had struck twice more, bringing his total to nine murders. Greg walked into the break room, mechanically heading straight to his coffee machine and pouring himself a cup, adding three large spoonfuls of sugar. He'd been here just as long as Stephanie. He'd developed his unique sense in which to read her, if her hair was straightened she was in a good mood; if it was curly she was feeling confident enough to allow her hair to take on its true form, if it was in a pony tail with bangs she was tired, and if it was in a pony tail with no bangs, he knew to be careful. Today, it was in a pony tail with no bangs. Everyone had been under pressure with the useless agents there, calling multiple and pointless press conferences. With Grissom taking the lead on this case, Catherine had taken multiple smaller cases on her own, leaving Stephanie to deal with the politics that Grissom couldn't handle. Genius standing aside, he was helpless when it came to politics, which was something Stephanie was talented with.

Greg poured a second cup of Blue Hawaiian coffee, looking over at the dark brunette pony tail resting on the table, and brought it over to Stephanie. This was a rare act from Greg. He coveted his coffee, so to everyone else in the lab this was seen as a huge gesture. He put the cup down next to the files as he sat down next to Stephanie, gentle rubbing her shoulders.

"Just thinking," she mumbled, embarrassed that Greg had caught her sleeping. But to him, he saw her only as beautiful. She pulled the elastic out of her hair, letting soft curls frame her face. She yawned, looking over at Greg, his brown hair left to its natural curls. Only his brown eyes gave away how tired he really was. This case had taken a lot out of everyone. Greg pushed the second cup of coffee over to her; she smiled and took in its warm aroma.

Little did Stephanie and Greg know that the rest of the team had taken note of what had become their routine over the past week. Catherine and Nick watched them from the trace lab, where Hodges was going on about something regarding his date last night. Catherine smiled, nudging Nick as Greg leaned over and kissed Stephanie gingerly on the cheek. Something had changed about them in the past week, but Catherine couldn't quite figure out what had finally done it. She smiled as Stephanie blushed, grinning at Greg. Nick chuckled, obviously having just observed what Catherine was watching. Hodges looked horror struck, "what's so funny about a girl falling asleep? This is a serious situation!"

Nick looked at him like something the dog had just dragged into the kitchen, "you idiot, look at Greg and Stephanie."

Hodges stood up and walked over to get a better view of Stephanie and Greg sitting together in the break room. "So exactly how long have you guys been plotting to get them together?"

"Nope" the pair said in unison. Catherine took over, "they did this one on their own, must've just been our wishful thinking." After a while of looking at the happy couple Catherine spoke up again, "come on Nick, we have to get these to Grissom." Picking up the results sheet from Hodges desk Catherine and Nick began to leave.

"Hey Cath," Hodges said with a glimmer of hope, "if the next new girl's as pretty as this one, send her my way, not Sander's."

"Yah will do Hodges," said Nick with a Snicker.

For the next few minutes Stephanie and Greg sat in the break room, relying on each other for emotional support. Greg had his arm around Stephanie as she curled into his chest; just then her pager went off. Glancing down at the screen Stephanie saw the word "GRISSOM." She got up gently, kissing Greg on the top of the head as she left.

Entering Grissom's office Stephanie grimaced at the sight of Agent Vernada, quickly disguising it. "Stephanie, Agent Vernada has a few things to discuss with you." Grissom stated, looking a little shell shocked.

"Miss. O'Neil, let's walk." Agent Vernada said pretending to be Stephanie's friend. After they reached the doors to the lab, opening them to walk through the brisk fall air she spoke again, "the other agents and I have been quite impressed with your work on this case. And, as a result of that, we would like to offer you a position in DC. What do you say?"

"Wow, this is all, very sudden." Stephanie responded with a start. It had been her dream to work with the FBI, but after the past few weeks she wasn't sure if she didn't need to rethink her dreams. The FBI had proven to be far less productive verses the lab here. She felt like she was actually making a difference here, but at the FBI she'd probably just be at a boring desk job, without personal connections, without Greg. "I'll really have to consider this, I'm flattered that you'd consider me, but I need some time to think on it."

"Of course, it's a big career move, just think of what it could do for your resume, once you've reached the FBI, you could go anywhere." Agent Vernada hinted. "Maybe even a career in politics?" Now she had started the wheels turning. Stephanie thanked Agent Vernada for the offer, and told her she'd get back to her soon, then hurrying back to the lab.

Knocking on Grissom's office door, a million thoughts ran through Stephanie's head. Grissom looked up, waving a hand to invite her in. "Grissom, Agent Vernada, well she offered me a position at the FBI in DC. I though I should tell you, being my supervisor and all. I also really do value your opinion. She said that I could go to politics from there…"

Grissom looked at her blankly, "well Stephanie, I think you're pretty clear on my position on the FBI, but Agent Vernada is right about it opening many doors for you. I think you have to decide where you want to go with your life. You can go many places with this lab, and I know everyone, myself included, would be crushed to see you go. But, the FBI can do great things for you, despite its downfalls. I'm afraid that past that I can't be of much help to you."

"No, thank you Grissom. You've helped me already. Trust me; I won't be taking this lightly." Stephanie left his office, perhaps a little more confused than when she entered. She secretly wished that this offer had come later on in her career at the lab, then she would have an idea of what her job here was like, at this point she was hardly done her first case.

While Stephanie was pondering where she was going, Greg sat in the break room pondering where he was. Catherine came in and sat down beside him, "that's quite the hand you got there Greg," Catherine said motioning to the set of nail marks on his left hand.

"Oh, that," Greg said as he snapped out of his thoughts, "it's nothing really, just a little mark."

"That's not what I meant," Catherine hinted. "I saw you in there, back in Grissom's office, that was quite something."

Realizing that this was not something that he could avoid, Greg responded, "well, you saw them, they crushed her single handedly, she needed someone. She's so far from home, no family. It's got to be hard…" Greg trailed off, lost in his thought once more. Catherine sat there, watching Greg contemplating.

"You and I both know that's not it Greg," Catherine started, looking him straight in the eye, "you care about her." Greg looked up from his coffee cup, looking Catherine straight in the eyes. "You do, I saw the look on your face when she left. The way you smile when she enters the room, you've got it bad." Catherine chuckled inwardly at this, remembering her early days with Eddie, when they were both happy.

"Okay, maybe I do," Greg grinned, "I just don't know if she's looking for someone right now." Greg had been pinning after Stephanie since they first ran into each other in the hallway. He'd just never been sure if she was going through the same thing.

"Trust me Greg, I know Stephanie's type, she's not going to go through that with just anyone. She's tough, she likes to let on that she doesn't need anyone, but if she's let you this far I think it really means something." Catherine took Greg's hand, examining the nail marks. "And I gather that if you let her do this, she means just as much to you as you do to her."

Greg blushed; they sat in silence for what seemed like forever till finally he found the words, "yah, she does."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Okay people, this is your last chance, my birthday is today. You still have a chance to give me the rights to CSI. PLEASE!

A/N: Thank you soooo much to everyone who's reviewed, I love you all so much! You're so sweet! Anyways, after this the stuff gets a little bit darker. So just to warn you, this is gonna be the last 'fluffy' chapter for a while. Cause this one is very 'fluffy'. Still, lots of Greg and Stephanie to come, but darker. Don't worry, I promise no one dies. Anywho, enjoy and as always please review!

Ch. 11

Stephanie hung up her cell phone as she sat in her car. She'd done what anyone in her position would have. She'd called home. She filled her parents in on everything that had happened with the lab and the FBI, minus Greg. Their first reaction was that she should come home, seeing as there was a serial killer on the loose and all. Eventually she calmed them down, telling them that she really didn't fit the profile of any serial killer's in all of history. Then they did what most typical parents would do, telling her that if it really was her dream to work with the FBI than she should take the chance and go for it, so long as it wasn't _too_ dangerous, but, if she really enjoyed her work at the lab in Vegas that she should stay. Her mother also reminded her that, "when all else fails, put on a good pot of tea, how else do we British keep our stiff upper lip." Then, as a final note they informed her that there was an opening of secretary at the church if she wanted a _quieter_, job, a change of pace perhaps. Stephanie laughed at the thought; she could never see her self going back there. She'd played his father's secretary since she was able to answer the phone. She knew how under paid anyone associated with the church was, she couldn't go back there.

Pulling in to the parking lot, Stephanie waved at Nick and Sarah who were pulling out to go re-examine the last WCCC scene. She hadn't told anyone at the lab but Grissom about the job offer, not even Greg, she didn't want to worry anyone, especially if it turned out that she didn't take the job. She didn't want everyone looking at her as 'the girl who wants out'.

Stephanie walked into the lab, stopping to chat with the receptionist briefly before heading in to go over the WCCC's latest victim with Grissom and the agents. As she walked into the Grissom's office she couldn't help but catch a glance of Greg laughing away with Agent Vernada, she put a hand on his chest, laughing seductively. Stephanie had to look away. Surely that wasn't what it seemed. Greg wouldn't do that to her, he knew how poorly she had mistreated Stephanie. He cared about her, she was sure he did.

Before she could allow her thoughts to run away with her Grissom had called her name, it only made sense seeing as she had been standing half inside his office. "Stephanie, have you come up with the latest vic's profile yet?"

"Yes…yes, I have. Right here, actually," Stephanie said with a start, motioning to the file under her arm. "Shelly Gates," she began, sitting down across from Grissom at his desk. Two of the three agents, Agent Vernada being in the break room, gathered round to see Stephanie's finding. "19 year old female. So far it looks as if the WCCC has moved on to Son of Sam, the .44 caliber killer. Shot and killed in her car, blood on the interior of the car door, the DNA was a match to Suzanne Smalta, last victim. Smalta's attack was the most brutal yet, I would have said that the WCCC was escalating but this last attack was much simpler, single gun shot to the head. Gates appears to have been leaving her car to go into her house where her parents were waiting for her when she was approached by WCCC who shot her, leaving behind her purse and keys. Robbery was not a motive. Then before leaving WCCC left the blood on the interior of the car door. Nick and Sara have gone back the scene. Last time they were there they found trace amounts of some kind of oil. They got the results from Hodges, its moisturizing oil, so they've gone to the scene to see if it was left from the vic or WCCC. If it came from the WCCC then they'll located the source and just need to narrow it down to one person."

Grissom continued nodding as he had while Stephanie was speaking. He looked as if he was lost, deep in thought. Before he had a chance to speak, Agent Minali took over, "where's Agent Vernada, I though she was called to this meeting as well?"

Stephanie took this as her chance, "oh, she's in the break room, I paged her but she didn't respond, she must be in the break room," then she went in for the kill, "again." The other agents looked at Stephanie, then at each other. Then they left the room and went round the corner to the break room. Leaving only Stephanie and Grissom.

"That was good work on the latest vic Stephanie, even if the agents don't let on, they are impressed." Grissom tried in vain to bring the smile back to Stephanie's face. She may have physically remained in the room but mentally she was somewhere else. "Is there something you need to discuss with me Stephanie?" Grissom asked, hoping to spark a conversation with her.

"Mr. Grissom," Stephanie began cautiously, "if I don't take this offer from the FBI, what are the chances of another one coming up in the future?"

"I really can't tell you, it really depends on how many cases you do with them in the future, and how you perform during those cases."

"It's just, I don't know if I'm ready to give up this position for a desk job, with a hope of maybe moving up ten years down the road. But," she paused for a moment, "if I take this job, I could go up to serious profiling, to politics, anywhere. I wouldn't be the small town girl who wanted to be someone, I'd be the small town girl who left and actually became something big."

"Stephanie," Grissom cut in, "no matter where you are, no matter what you do, you will always be something big. Look at how far you've come, your one of the most talented profilers this lab has ever seen. In your first month here you've been offered a position with the FBI. How many people can take claim to that?" Grissom looked her in the eyes. He could see the tears beginning to well up in her deep blue eyes.

After a long period of silence Stephanie spoke up, "thank you. You know, you sounded eerily like my dad for a minute there."

"Well, Grissom said, I figured that's what you needed most of all right now. Most kids your age are still living at home, working at the local coffee shop-"

"Hey!" Stephanie cut in, "that was me a month ago."

Grissom chuckled, "you know what I mean. All I'm saying is, living so far from home so young, and you're not dealing with the average job here, and it's got to be tough without any family around."

Before Grissom could continue Stephanie embraced him in a large hug, saying, "you're wrong Grissom, I do have family here, you. From the very start you've taken me under your wing, I couldn't have asked for more."

Grissom couldn't think of anything to say, he just hugged her back, glad that he had finally broken through her tough exterior.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own lots of things, sadly, one of them is not CSI.

A/N: Thanks to everyone for all your reviews. Here's the beginning of the dark stuff. I hope you all enjoy it. Please review, I always love to hear your thoughts, and have a happy new years!

Ch 12

Stephanie pulled her car into her apartment complex's parking lot, glad to be done with such a long day. After her discussion with Grissom she decided that she would turn down Agent Vernada's offer. She had a family at the lab, how could she turn that down? Walking into her fifth floor apartment she stopped immediately as soon as she surveyed the wreckage of what her apartment had subcome to. She looked around for Bob praying he was alright, seeing him huddled up in a corner she ran over to him, checking to see if he was hurt. Just as she bent down to pick him up a hand clasped over her mouth, she bit down on it, hearing cursing to follow, then something blunt hit her over the head. Before she knew it everything had gone black.

When she came to she found herself in a small, dark room. She sat up, moving to stand, finding that space was limited she opted to sit. A dull pain was throbbing in the back of her head as she reached down to clasp her ankle. She could feel that it was swollen, probably twisted. She looked around as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Scanning the room she was shocked to find another person sitting in the opposite corner, she scurried backwards trying to get as far away from this person as fast as possible. "Hello Stephanie," the mysterious person spoke up, startling her. The voice, Stephanie couldn't quite place it, but it was extremely familiar. "I'm upset that you don't recognize me, well, maybe you'd know my work a little bit better than you know me personally."

"Oh my god," was all Stephanie could muster up to say, "it's you, you're the WCCC."

"That's right," the figure said, moving closer to Stephanie, and out of the shadows. At closer glance the figure was a female, everyone had assumed that the WCCC was a male. As soon as the woman's face came into view she knew who it was. She would recognize her wild, curly raven black hair, dark complexion and simple black business suit anywhere.

"But," Stephanie stammered, "you're an FBI agent, how could you, you were assigned to the case, how could no one notice?"

"Well, you didn't, did you?" Agent Vernada's question left hanging in the air like a bitter taste in your mouth.

Not able to take it, Stephanie broke the silence, "what are you planning to do to me?"

"Well you see, all these years I've been using the crimes of others before me. But, when Nick and Sara found the oil from my hands rubbed off on the car door next to the blood I knew it would only be a matter of time before they found me. You see, I have dry hands so I use a particular brand of massage oil which only a little shop in DC outside my building makes, they're probably making this connection back at the lab as we speak. Anyways, I've decided to go out with a bang, my own person twist to this story. Miss. O'Neil, you have the pleasure of being the final victim of the West Coast Copy Cat."

"So that's why you were so adamant about using the full name. Why you bulked up the killer's profile, above average intelligence, strong influence on the community, not fitting the deviance triad. Let me ask you something Agent Vernada, do you still wet the bed? Was it your father who abused you? Was the thrill of harming animals just not enough? You get release from this don't you? The burning pressure in the back of your mind, does it fade once you spread the blood on the walls? But not for long eh?" Stephanie paused, she could feel her pulse rising, "it returns, each time stronger than the last, building, building till it feels like your going to…pop." By this point Stephanie was out of breath, so enraged that this agent had gone behind her back, plotting all the while. It wasn't until seconds later that it crossed her mind that she was in the same room as the WCCC, a cold, heartless, bloodthirsty killer.

Agent Vernada slowly moved closer to Stephanie, smiling sickly. Stopping only a few inches from her face, Stephanie, thinking quickly, discreetly slipped off a stiletto shoe. Silently thanking herself for sacrificing her calf muscles for the appearance of elongated legs. If all went well, a few spider veins in her fifties wouldn't be such a bad price to pay for her life. Waiting till Agent Vernada was close enough to her, Stephanie whipped out the shoe striking her in the eye, twisting the shoe slightly she dug the heel into her head. Blood trickled down her face. Stephanie gasped, she never had to use any of her self defense training, obviously this was a moderation of what she'd been taught, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Agent Vernada, went pale, her remaining eye rolled as she passed out. Stephanie knew she only had a short amount of time before she came to. While she strained herself to remain calm she heard footsteps, pressing her ear to the ceiling she heard them above her. Banging on the ceiling with all her might, crying out for help. She ran her hands along the walls searching for a door, finally finding one she pounded on it. Nothing.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: My birthday has come and gone, and still no one gave me CSI, so I guess I'll just have to make do with this story.

Ch. 13

Greg paced the break room. It was unusual for Stephanie to be late for work. Just then his pager went off, seeing the screen he made his way to Grissom's office, in the halls he met Catherine and Warrick. Reaching Grissom's office the trio saw that the rest of the team had already congregated itself in the small room. Nick was the first to speak, "We know who the WCCC is," the team turned to him shocked, "Agent Vernada."

Sara took this as her cue, explaining about the oil and how they'd traced it to the agent. Then, explaining that Stephanie had been kidnapped by Agent Vernada. "Here," she said laying an evidence bag containing a single piece of paper on the desk, "she left this."

_CSI's: I have your profiler. It's your own fault; she'd be safe if you hadn't caught on to me. She hidden somewhere in the lab. Search high, search low, you'll won't find her till she's become the final victim of the West Coast Copy Cat._

_-the West Coast Copy Cat_

Greg went pale; he couldn't believe that someone would want to hurt Stephanie. Grissom, noticing the worried looks on his team's faces spoke up, "she's smart, she'll be alright. But we have to act fast, Catherine call Brass. Everyone we need to start searching, we don't have much time."

The team spread out around the lab. Catherine and Warrick took the roof, Sarah and Nick the main floor, and Grissom and Greg took the basement. Hardly anyone ever used the basement, but Greg knew it like the back of his hand, nail marks and all.

Catherine and Warrick burst through the steel door and onto the roof, searching for tracks in the roof dust. Finding none they checked the perimeter, praying that Stephanie hadn't been thrown off the roof. Warrick called Catherine over, finding that the door to the electrical shed had been left ajar. The pair drew their guns, prepared for the worst.

Entering the tiny shack the pair saw a desk, with another note on it. It read:

_Too bad, so sad, by the time you've found this your precious profiler's dead._

_-the West Coast Copy Cat_

"Damn it," Warrick cursed under his breath.

"Don't Warrick, she could be fine, you never know." Catherine attempted to comfort him but he'd already headed back down the stairs.

Greg led Grissom down the stairs, heading immediately for the old janitors closet. Once he heard that the WCCC was Agent Vernada Greg immediately began reminiscing about everything he had told the way ward agent. He had a sneaking suspicion of where she may have hidden Stephanie. Earlier the previous day he had been telling her about when he first started working at the lab and needed a place for some piece and quiet. He found it odd what close attention she had paid to his description of the tiny, almost shrunken room. Finding the door to the room Greg heard muffled screams, he yelled as load as he could. "Back up!" Then he proceeded to kick down the door as Grissom stood back in amazement at his young CSI.

As the door fell a harrowing sight came before the CSI's. Agent Vernada was collapsed on the floor with what appeared to be a shoe protruding from her left eye socket. Stephanie was huddled up in the corner; she appeared distant as her eyes met Greg's. He ran over to her just in time to catch her as she collapsed.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I own a CSI book, but not CSI itself; I can see how you would confuse the two though.

A/N: Happy New Year everybody! Thank you so much to everybody who's been reviewing! I love the happy feeling when a review alert arrives in my inbox! Thank you so much for all your kind words. Please keep reviewing!

Ch. 14

"She's very lucky, you know," one of the doctors told Grissom as he paced the small, dimly lit hospital room. Stephanie had been asleep for a few hours, but the doctors said that was normal, what wasn't normal was Greg. He'd given up pacing the room, Sara had offered to drive him home but he declined, saying it was all his fault. Grissom tried to reason with it, saying that no one could prevent a serial killer from attacking, but Greg wouldn't hear it. Finally, about an hour ago, he'd fallen asleep next to Stephanie's bed, holding her hand. The doctor's words broke Grissom's train of thought, "she suffered a major sprain to her left ankle, and just a minor concussion. It look's a lot worse than it really is. We will want to keep her over night for observation, then she should be okay for released in the morning. Does she have any family in the area?"

Grissom shook his head sadly, poor girl, he thought, going through all this with no one in the area. The doctor spoke up again, "we'll need some contact information to get her medical records transferred over to this hospital."

Grissom nodded, "I'll get in touch with her family today and see what I can do. Thank you doctor." With that the doctor left, Grissom picked up his jacket and decided that he would be most needed at the lab with the rest of the team, processing the scene. Cautiously he woke Greg, he jumped with a start. "Greg, I need you to stay with Stephanie and get her statement." Before he headed out the door Grissom looked back at Greg who was sitting intently beside the hospital bed, "Greg," he looked up, tearing his eyes away from the sleeping girl for the first time in hours, "she's going to need you when she wakes up."

"I know," Greg said, turning back to her, "I know," he whispered. Grissom left the room, leaving the two alone. Greg picked up Stephanie's hand, "I'm so sorry," he whispered, "It's all my fault." For the rest of the night Greg stayed by her side, feeling it was his responsibility.

As the first rays of morning sun shone through the hospital windows Stephanie's eyes fluttered open. The first thing that came to her was the still, throbbing pain in her head, as she lifted a hand to her head she found it was attached to someone else's hand, Greg's. Noticing that he was sleeping she tried to stay still, not wanting to wake him. While she waited for Greg to wake up she tried to recall what would have landed her in the hospital. She remembered her conversation with Grissom, coming home, finding the apartment a wreck, after that it was fuzzy. She tried once again, this time she vaguely remembered a small room, and for some reason, Agent Vernada. After only about fifteen minutes Stephanie was pleased to see Greg's eyes flutter open.

"Hey," he said, quietly, the remnants of sleep hanging on his words, "you're up." A look of general concern crossed his face, "how are you feeling? Do you remember what happened?"

"I'm okay really, I just, don't know why I'm here." For the next hour and a half Greg explained to Stephanie, slowly the bits a pieces began to piece together for her, Agent Vernada, the lab basement, the shoe.

"There's just one this we haven't been able to figure out," Greg began to ask, "what was the point of the shoe?"

Stephanie chuckled, "back when I was in elementary school my parents enrolled me in a self defense course, they said that the easiest way to disarm your attacker was to aim for the eyes. Then they're hurt, shocked, and can't see properly. I knew that Agent Vernada would have had copious amounts of training in self defense and would come to expect a hand coming flying at her, so I used my shoe," she explained, seeing the look of confusion on Greg's face, she elaborated, "If I'd worn flats yesterday I'd be dead," she deadpanned.

Greg laughed, "well, I'm glad to see your feeling better about this. You encountered one of the most infamous serial killers of our time and here you are hours later joking about it." Just then the rest of the team, Grissom included tiptoed into the room.

"Its okay guys," Stephanie laughed, "I'm not dead, it's just a concussion." Everyone immediately relaxed. "Seriously, don't just stand there, come in. Tell me, where is she?"

Nick took this as his queue to step into the conversation, "Agent Vernada is in the country prison hospital, currently in surgery to save her eye. It looks as if she'll pull through, but from the amount of damage I doubt that they'll save the eye, perhaps even her sight." Nick paused, trying to read Stephanie's expression to see if he should continue. Despite the yawn that the obviously exhausted girl let out, she looked interested. He continued, "we haven't had a chance to question her yet, she should be out of surgery within the hour. There are a few things we haven't been able to piece together ourselves yet though, if you don't mind indulging us," he paused, Stephanie nodded. So he continued, "if she was determined to go out with a bang, why did she hide you in the lab? Didn't she think she'd get caught?"

"That's simple Nick, serial killers crave attention. In the end all they want is to get caught. When they know that they're coming to the end of their rope they'll try anything to get that last bit of attention."

Everyone pondered this for a while, then, Catherine asked the next question, "okay miss profiler, care to explain the shoe?"

Greg and Stephanie exchanged glances and laughed. Stephanie delicately explained the situation and her reasons behind it. By the end the team seemed to understand this oddity which they had encountered. Soon everyone was swapping stories about their encounters with different suspects, some where scary likes Nick's about a stalker who'd thrown his out a window, and some where just hilarious like Catherine's with Miss Kitty, the furry, stripping, sociopath. Eventually Grissom and Brass arrived to inform the team that Agent Vernada was out of surgery and ready for questioning. Once everyone, minus Greg (whom Grissom had excused from the case to remain with Stephanie) had left Grissom took Stephanie's hand and asked her softly, "so, I guess you probably won't be taking that job with the FBI then."

Stephanie laughed, "no, I've realized that I have more important things here. A family," with that she motioned to the sleeping Greg and the team waiting impatiently by the door, eager to see what had driven some one to hurt one of their own.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: While CSI would really do much better should I own it (i.e. Eric Szmanda getting faaaar more air time) I still don't.

A/N: Just to warn you all, this chapter does contain some language. Nothing past what you would here walking down the street, but just incase itwould offend you, there is some 'language'. I tried to do it tastefully, and nothing excessive, only what is really important and relevant to the plot. If you read on you'll see how it illustrates the amount of stress the team is under. Anyways, as always thanks for the reviews!

Ch. 15

Grissom entered the interrogation room at the county prison, followed closely by Brass. Agent Vernada sat at the opposite end of the steel table, one eye bandaged, the skin around it was swollen. Grissom took the seat immediately across from Vernada while Brass stood in the corner. Surprisingly, Vernada was the first to speak, "let me explain," she pleaded, "it wasn't my fault! He made me do it!"

Grissom and Brass exchanged looks. Grissom spoke, "you mean to say that someone put you up to this?" Vernada nodded gravely.

Brass exploded, "and who might this mysterious person be, the person who put you up to attempting the murder of one of our most prominent profilers, in our own building!" Grissom laid a hand on Brass' arm, attempting in vain to calm him, "no Gil!" He yelled, "this is enough shit outta you Vernada! You tried to kill one of my team in my lab! It was a closet, how the hell do you expect me to believe that someone put you up to this?" Brass stared at her with a look that could burn through lead.

Vernada began to cry, tears streaming down her cheek from her one good eye. "He told me he'd kill me! He'd kill my family!"

"You know better than that, you're a fucking agent!" Brass slammed his fists against the table.

"You don't understand," Vernada slammed her fists to counter Brass' outburst. "I'm not the West Coast Copy Cat!" She paused, trying to catch her breathe, "I wouldn't do that to anyone! I work to stop these sickos not because I am one of them!"

"Okay then, who is it?" Grissom remained calm.

Vernada broke down crying once again, "I don't know," she sobbed, "I just don't know. I was getting into my car when he put a gun to my head, gave me the letters and told me what to do and that if I didn't do it or if I told anyone that he'd kill me and my family…" Soon her words were overridden by loud sobs. Grissom and Brass exchanged looks of suspicion. They had each encountered scenarios like this before, it was hard to tell whether the accused was lying or not. In most cases the only way a serial killer would give up the credit is if they realize that they'd get more attention as the victim than as the killer. In this case, it was happening, Vernada was under media protection by the FBI, but should she become the victim rather than the WCCC it's a whole different story.

Brass leaned in close to Vernada, "who told you to do this?" Vernada didn't respond, he leaned in closer, and spoke a little louder too, "I'm sorry Agent Vernada, did Miss O'Neil affect your hearing as well when you were trying to kill her? I asked you who told you to kidnap Miss O'Neil."

Vernada looked up at Grissom, searching for help, finding none she turned back to Brass. "It was George Milston."

Grissom perked up at the mention of George Milston's name, a notorious serial killer who terrorized Las Vegas in the sixties. Unfortunately the lab only had enough evidence to convict him of rape at the time, not any of the over twenty murders. All evidence which had been logged from the case was destroyed three years ago due to the explosion in the DNA lab. Milston would be in his fifties by now, Grissom thought; he was released in the early eighties on parole, by now he was practically a free man. "Are you sure it was George Milston?" Grissom questioned intensely, he had been in his teens when the vicious killer was on the loose, he remembered who worried it had made his mother. It was a dark time for everyone.

Vernada nodded, "I studied that case at the academy. I knew it was him. I knew that look in his eyes."

"Did he leave you any subsequent information? Any tips, instructions, anything?" Grissom asked, his eyes glimmering. "What did he plan to do with you once you were finished with Miss O'Neil?"

"He said he would kill me if I didn't do it, past that he said to meet him outside of my hotel room here. At three o'clock today. That he would tell me what to do next." Vernada was shaking so hard by now it was hard to determine what she was saying. Brass glanced at his watch, it read 2:30, he leapt up, "I'm on it," he said in leaving.

Brass continued down the hall pass the guards, picking up his radio as soon as he reached his car. "I need a team at the Monte Carlo, snipers, CSIs, the works." Brass turned on his siren and raced towards the hotel where one of Vegas' most notorious serial killers was due to be arriving. A chill ran down his spine as he thought back to the day nearly forty years ago when George Milston had killed and raped his sister. Brass reached down to his side and griped his gun.

Brass arrived at the Monte Carlo shortly, a team of swat cars had arranged it self outside of the hotel. He looked around the street and could see trained snipers waiting on the roofs of adjacent buildings. Just then two black Tahoes pulled up along side his car, Nick and Sara jumped out of one, Catherine and Warrick out of the other. "Is it true?" Sara asked angrily, "he's back?" Brass nodded grimly. "Damn him!" Sara shouted, Nick placed a hand on her shoulder, but she only shook it off. Brass' radio went off before any of them had time to share their side of how Milston had touched their lives. Either way, none of it was good.

Through the static all the team could here was screaming and gun fire. Suddenly gun fire erupted through the hotel parking lot, everyone hit the ground. Not before they saw a figure that everyone could easily identify as the six foot five Milston fleeing the scene in a black SUV. Sara cursed again, this time no one noticed, the only thing they saw was the black SUV speeding down the strip.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Ya, I own CSI, right.

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! Please keep them coming, I always love to hear what you have to say. It's back to the fluffy stuff for now, if you liked the dark stuff than good news, cause it's coming back. If not, well, lets just assume you like it : -)

Ch. 16

"Mr. Sanders?" A plain but pretty nurse asked a sleep deprived Greg, who mumbled an inaudible response. "Are you a direct relative of Miss O'Neil?"

"No," Greg shook his head wearily, "I'm a college and…possible boyfriend, I think."

The nurse laughed, "Okay then, the doctor said that she's fine to go home, but that she needs to be supervised. We can't release her unless someone is going to be taking care of her."

"Well, I could do that," Greg jumped at the thought; she could stay at his place, seeing as hers was currently a crime scene. "Ya, she'll come home with me. Do I need to sign for her?"

"No," the nurse responded, "she's already signed herself out, you just need to take her home."

"Okay then," Greg said happily, glancing down at Stephanie who was sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed.

Stephanie looked around her as the sleep that had once clouded her head slowly cleared allowing her vision to return once again. For the third time she didn't know where she was. It wasn't the hospital, and it defiantly wasn't her house. The walls were painted white, with multiple bookshelves and random movie posters scattered throughout the room. She sat up just as the door opened the scent of coffee and pancakes flooding her nostrils. Greg came through the door, as soon as she saw his face she smiled. He returned her smile with a cheery, "Good morning sunshine! Glad to see the morphine finally wore off, I was beginning to think I took home a cadaver."

Stephanie laughed; glad to see that Greg wasn't behaving like some of the other team members, treating her like she was knocking on death's door and the slightest movement could send her over the edge. "…and," Greg said enthusiastically, plopping down a large package on her bed, "apparently some people way up north caught wind of your "condition"," he used finger brackets for this, which it must have been the remainders of the painkiller cocktail wearing off, but she found hilarious, "and decided that what would really make you better would be what appears to be twenty pounds of fudge." Greg looked at the package quizzically.

Stephanie gingerly opened the box, revealing what was indeed nearly twenty pounds of fudge, sent from her grandmother. "It was my favorite when I was younger, my grandma would always send it over when I was sick," she laughed, "I can't believe she sent out this much, she must have bought out the store!" Greg picked up the package and set it on the bureau next to the bed.

"Well then, now that you're awake, how would you like the grand tour of Chez Gregory?" Stephanie nodded, "Okay then, this is…" he drew it out dramatically, waving his arm around the room like a model on a game show, "the master bedroom, just down the hallway," with this he took her hand, sending a series of chills down her spine, "you will find the living room, the kitchen and right down here, the bathroom, and last but not least, the guest room."

Stephanie interrupted him at this point, "Greg! You gave me your room! You shouldn't have, I didn't even know I would be waking up here, you shouldn't have done that just for me!" Greg blushed.

"Nonsense, I live to serve." With this he added a grand bow, "your wish is my command."

Suddenly Stephanie remembered Bob, "Oh my god, Greg, what about Bob?" She panicked.

Greg thought about this for a moment, "I'm going into the lab tomorrow, I'll talk to Brass, he was the one in charge of the scene. He should know. Don't worry, he'll be fine." Greg kissed the top of her head in reassurance.

"Okay then," said Stephanie as they made their way to the bedroom, "have some fudge, please."

This caused Greg to laugh. Stephanie couldn't believe all that had happened in the last seventy two hours, she'd been offered a job with the FBI, been kidnapped by a serial killer, and now she was living (temporarily) with what was turning out to be the guy of her dreams. She couldn't possibly be happier. She flopped down onto the bed, exhausted, yawning she leaned over to Greg, who was sitting beside her on the bed playing with her hair, "why am I still so tired, the drugs should have worn off by now?"

Greg laughed, "don't worry. It'll wear off in a few hours. Trust me, they gave me the same stuff after the accident in the lab, it's pretty heavy stuff, but, it does the trick."

Stephanie rolled over, leaning her head against his chest. Pondering whether or not she should venture into what she had sensed was dangerous territory. Finally she asked, "Greg, what happen at the lab?"

Greg sighed and stopped playing with her hair for a moment. Picking up a loose curl he continued, "I was working a double shift analyzing samples; Catherine had placed an unidentified liquid under the fume hood. Someone had left the hot plate on, it heated up the substance until it exploded. I was the only major injury, a few people needed stitches. Catherine was a wreck afterwards. It really wasn't anyone's fault, just too many people in the wrong place, at the wrong time. In the end, we lost a lot of evidence, but, we didn't loose any people. And in the end, that's all that really matters…" Greg faded out at this point. Stephanie gently caressed his cheek; slowly she kissed it, moving closer and closer to his lips. By the time she finally reached his lips he slowly and carefully them with his own, slowly moving his tongue to her lips, she eased her tongue into his mouth. She'd never kissed like this in her life, but somehow, it was as if someone was guiding her. She let a moan of pleasure escape her lips. He grinned through his kiss, "Miss O'Neil, where did you learn to kiss like that?" he asked playfully.

"There are a lot of things you can learn at church camp, Mr. Sanders." She replied saucily. Before he could reply she leaned in and slipped her tongue into his mouth, kissing with a passion that she'd never felt before. Just as Greg moved his hands from her hair to her shoulders, moving slowly and gently; a knock came at the door.

"No," Greg moaned, but it was too late. Stephanie got off the bed and began hobbling towards the door, avoiding putting pressure on her swollen ankle. Greg leapt up to help her, placing her arm around his shoulders.

"You don't have to do this you know," Stephanie began. But Greg insisted. Stephanie balanced on Greg and opened the door, revealing Catherine juggling three duffle bags and one pink suitcase on wheels. Stephanie recognized it from her vacation out to New York back in the tenth grade. She looked at Catherine quizzically.

Catherine, not waiting for an invitation walked in, "well, don't you two look cozy," she motioned to Stephanie, who was decked out in a pair of Greg's pajama bottoms and a Manson t-shirt, leaning on Greg who had smears of lip gloss on his cheek. They looked at each other and giggled. "Grissom told me to bring over some of your things seeing as your house is a crime scene, and you really shouldn't be home on your own with that ankle anyways. So," she said motioning to the bags which she had laid on the coach, "I brought over a blow dryer, straightening iron, although I'm sure Greg could have provided those for you, the make up bag from your desk," she lifted a huge case, similar to the CSI kits, "and last but not least I emptied out your closet and dresser, hope you don't mind. But, I figured you'd want something to wear other than Grego's p.j.s."

"Catherine, thank you so much." Stephanie bubbled, "wow, thank you. You brought everything!" She surveyed the pile of bags, turning to Greg, who had a blank, dazed expression on his face. "I didn't realize I had this much stuff," she laughed, slightly embarrassed at her bountiful beauty arsenal. "Once I realized that they had a Sephora here, I kind of went a little nuts."

Catherine, upon seeing the look on Stephanie's face said, "trust me, this is nothing compared to what I bought when I first moved here. I bought out the store." Greg looked amused at this discussion, but feeling a little out of place helped Stephanie to a chair and went to the kitchen to go get drinks.

"Cath," he called, "what can I getcha?"

"Just a water, thanks Greg," she called in reply. Turning to Stephanie she said, "so tell me Stephanie, that wasn't your lip gloss on Greg's cheek was it?"

"Vincent Longo," Stephanie blushed. "It must be the drugs they gave me," she teased.

Catherine just smiled knowingly, "sure, that's it." Catherine smiled as she remembered when she first had Lindsay and how Eddie had been so attentive, her wish was his command. They didn't have time to continue their conversation because just then Greg came back into the room, handing a glass of water to each Stephanie and Catherine. Then he went back into the kitchen, Catherine leaned closer to Stephanie, "he's sweet isn't he?" She nodded just as Greg came back into the room, carrying a plate of cookies. Catherine look stunned, "you got him to bake? All this time and it turns out you really are more than just a pretty face." Catherine joked at Greg.

He blushed, "you never know until you ask."

The three friends continued on like this until Catherine glanced at the clock. "Shoot! I have to get back to the lab. Grissom told me to be back a half an hour ago."

After Catherine left Stephanie and Greg continued talking, before they knew it, it was time for dinner. Greg quickly made spaghetti, and then showed Stephanie where the towels were so she could get ready for bed. While Stephanie was getting ready for bed Greg quickly made up the dishes. It wasn't until twenty minutes later when Stephanie hobbled out of the bathroom wearing a pair of pink pajamas, her hair was pulled up of her face into a high, loose ponytail. She wore no make-up; he'd never seen her look more beautiful. He smiled, thrown off by his gaze Stephanie tripped over her own feet. Greg ran over to help her steady herself. "I'm sorry, I'm such a klutz. My parents enrolled me in dance to help me to be more graceful, apparently it only has occasional effects." Stephanie joked.

"Trust me, your fine." Greg wrapped his arms around her from behind andkissed her lightly on the top of the head. When she wasn't in heels, the heights difference between the two of them was over a foot. Greg helped her into his bedroom and into the bed. She smiled sleepily; he kissed her gently on the lips before whispering 'goodnight'. He went to leave her bedside but she reached out for his arm.

"Please Greg, stay with me. I haven't slept without you for the last two nights. It'll be weird. Plus, I can't kick you out of your own bed." She gave him her classic puppy dog eyes, which she knew no one had ever turned down in the past.

"Of course I'll stay with you," Greg reassured her, "as long as you want." He got under the covers next to Stephanie, she turned into him. He wrapped his arms around her protectively. Stephanie let the soft rising and falling of Greg's chest lull her to sleep. Greg looked down at the sleeping girl beside him, she had taken out the ponytail holder and soft curls framed her delicate face. Her lips were full and pink; it was at that moment that he realized just how much he loved this girl.


	17. Chapter 17

**Ch. **17

Grissom hung up his cell phone as he paced the lab. He couldn't believe that Milston was back, it had been nearly forty years since the then teen had terrorized Las Vegas. So far, the only evidence that Milston was back was Vernada's statement. She had passed the lie detector test, but being an FBI agent it was possible that she could get around that. While Grissom was contemplating what could possibly be the solution to this nightmare his cell phone began to vibrate, "Grissom," he answered.

"Grissom, its Brass," came the voice on the other end of the phone, "we have Milston. He confessed, but you had better get down here. You're going to want to hear this for yourself."

Grissom hung up the phone and made his way to the police station. He made it there in record timing; Brass was waiting for him in the interrogation room. When Grissom had taken his seat Brass hit the record button on a tape recorder and motioned for Milston to start talking.

"I, George Milston am the West Coast Copy Cat. Despite that, I haven't killed anyone." Grissom looked at Brass, who held up his hand, motioning for Grissom to wait. "I made each of my victims kill, and then made someone kill them. I told them who, when, how and where. I told them I would kill them and their families if they didn't do what I told them. At the end of each murder they would spread the blood of the last victim on a wall and then draw a pint of blood from their victim. I selected a different serial killer's crime for each of my victims to copy. I always choose someone who was affected by that killer in some way. I made my victims do what it was that they feared had been done to someone they knew. That was why I choose your agent, Vernada, she studied my crimes, and that was how I planned to have her kill."

Grissom's mind was reeling; never had he imagined that Milston would strike like this. Then he remembered something Stephanie had said about how serial killers loved to admire their work, which was why most of them returned to their scenes, to relive the thrill. How else could they admire their work more so then having other people play it out like a puppet show? At the mention of Stephanie's name, he found himself confused once again. "How, Mr. Milston, do you explain where Stephanie O'Neil fit into all this?"

Milston grinned, "Oh, the pretty one. She was always rationalizing as to why I did things, stopping me from returning to the scene. She was always there, taking notes, analyzing me. She had to go. So after the agent killed her first victim, which she did so well with. You should be familiar with Shelly Gates; yourprofiler did so well with her. She showed such potential, so, I had her kill again. Luckily for Miss O'Neil, what your agent lacked was guts. I would have killed the slut anyways, two working eyes or not. Any more questions Mr. Grissom?" Milston folded his hands in front of himself on the table. His greasy hair shone in the harsh lighting of the room, his thickly framed glasses reflected random beams of light.

"No Mr. Milston, you've made it quite clear," then directed to Brass, "we're going to need a signed confession as well as a warrant to search his apartment."

"I'm already on it Grissom," Brass said, "the warrant is on the judges desk as we speak. Trust me; this wasn't a hard one to get." With that Grissom left the room, eager to get back to the lab and share the shocking news with the rest of the team.

Grissom drove his Tahoe back to the lab, his head reeling from the information he had just learned. Milston had forced a girl to kill another girl in the way which one of her relatives had been killed. Then, he would kidnap another girl and have her kill the first girl, and so the cycle continued. There was only one question still lingering in Grissom's mind, how was Stephanie related to this? Had someone close to her been murdered? Or was it that she had studied the crimes in school, in that case anyone at the lab would have been a target. He knew that he would have to discuss this with her later, but for now, he would let her rest.

Grissom arrived at the lab to find his team already in his office awaiting his arrival. Apparently Brass had called ahead of Grissom to prepare the team. Sara was the first to speak, "Is it him Grissom?"

"Yes Sara," Grissom began gravely, "George Milston is back, but it's different this time." From there Grissom explained the situation. The looks on his teams' faces went from shock to relief. He was forced to tell them that everyone was selected for a reason, and they were yet to discover what Stephanie's reason was. Nick ran a search on the lab's database but nothing came up, unfortunately this didn't mean much. The database didn't cover out of country cases unless they coincided with relevant cases in Nevada. The only way left to determine what happened to Stephanie was to ask her. Nick informed Grissom of the situation, they both came to the same conclusion. If someone was going to ask her, it would have to be Greg, she knew him, and felt safe with him. It was strange treating one of their own like they did a victim. That they were used to, this was much harder.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, "Seagulls" by Great Big Sea, or "Somebody Told Me" by the Killers. But wouldn't that be cool if I did?

A/N: Thanks so much for all your reviews as usual! This chapter gets into what happened to Stephanie in the past, so it's quite dark. It includes reference to rape and murder, it's not graphic though. Just to warn you though. Anyways, enjoy!

**Ch. **18

Stephanie cautiously rolled over, remembering that she was sharing the large bed with Greg. To her surprise there was no one else in the bed, instead, there was a note on the pillow beside her head. In what she immediately recognized as Greg's chicken scratch, it read:

_Good morning sunshine! There are pancakes in the oven, maple syrup in the fridge. Grissom called me into the lab, he needs to talk to you today so call me when you're up and I'll swing round to get you 'eh. My cell number's on the fridge. _

_Lots of love,_

_Greg._

She gently stumbled her way out of the bed and towards the bathroom. Turning on the hot water she stepped into the shower. Letting the hot water run down her back she smiled as she poured the shower gel into her hands, it smelled like Greg. She stayed in the shower until the hot water ran cold. Getting out she grabbed two towels. Wrappingone around herself and one for her hair. She limped over to the bathroom to get her bathrobe which Catherine had brought over the day before. As she made her way to the kitchen she pondered what Grissom would need to see her for, she'd told him everything she could about the attack. Once she was done with breakfast she pulled out some clothes from the bags next to the bed, she put on a pair of tight fitting jeans, an old concert tee and her favorite raggedy Seahawks sweater. While most of the time at the lab people had become accustomed to seeing her in designer work wear (she'd put her first paycheck to good use after paying the bills) and high heels, but for now she could barely fit her swollen foot into a pair of skate shoes never mind some stiletto ankle boots. She picked up the phone on the dresser and dialed Greg's number; he picked up on the first ring.

"Hey you," he said. Stephanie was speechless for what felt like hours, she'd never really done well with guys on the phone. Then she realized that this was technically work stuff, and not calling to see if he had a date to the winter formal.

"Hey," she began breathlessly, cursing herself for being such a girl. "You said Grissom needed to talk to me?"

"Yah," Greg answered, "apparently Vernada's not the WCCC, it's quite complicated. You ready for me to swing by? I cleaned out my car, so there's tons of room for that foot of yours."

"Yep, all I need is a ride," Stephanie replied, looking down at her swollen foot.

"Okay then, see you soon," Greg and Stephanie bid their farewells. Knowing that she had roughly half an hour from the time Greg left the lab till he arrived at the apartment, Stephanie pulled out her straightening iron and put her Great Big Sea CD in Greg's CD player. She always played this at home when ever she felt a little bit homesick. She sang along with the twanging lyrics as she straightened her hair,

"_She left St. John's one day in May  
Dressed in her Sunday best  
A kind man sat beside her  
While she cried her way out West  
_

"_She moved in with her cousin  
Found a job down in the mall  
Her friends at home were jealous  
Said they'd see her in the fall  
_

"_You know that she wants to try, never lets you see her cry  
You know that she wants to try, she's got seagulls in her eyes_

She twirled through the bathroom, cautiously, as not to disturb her already throbbing foot. Before she knew it nearly a half an hour had passed by, quickly Stephanie ran a brush through her newly straightened hair and pulled out her make up arsenal. She expertly laid out foundation, a soft peachy blush, deciding to forgo eye shadow finished off her look with some mascara and eye liner. Just as she lifted the mascara brush to her eyelids for the last time she heard a key in the lock, she shoved the outpoured contents of her make-up case back into their rightful places and hobbled into the living room to meet Greg.

Greg was just putting his keys on the table when Stephanie rounded the corner, hobbling at high speed. She never ceased to amaze him at how she could take a simple outfit like a hoodie, concert tee and jeans and turn it into something stunning. Her hair was sleek and straightened and her make-up was natural. "Hey," he stammered, not used to coming home to find a girl in his apartment, "ready to go?"

"Yep," Stephanie said flawlessly, "I just need to grab my purse and I'll be out the door, 'cept those steps could pose a problem," she said, motioning through the open door to the two flights of steps behind him as she pick up her favorite purple purse.

"Not a problem," Greg said, surveying the task at hand, without another word he effortlessly picked Stephanie up and proceeded to carry her down the steps to his car. Pausing only to lock the door behind him.

Once in Greg's car a silence fell between them, Greg fiddled with the radio dial, unsure of what to say. Finally settling on a local station Greg began to relax as the familiar lyrics floated through his brain.

"_Well somebody told me  
You had a boyfriend  
Who looked like a girlfriend  
That I had in February of last year  
It's not confidential  
I've got potential…_

Then he remembered what Brass had told him as he was leaving the lab, "Stephanie, I talked to Brass about Bob," at this Stephanie face brightened, "he called animal control who said they picked up a grey male kitten two blocks from your building. They matched the tags to Bob's on the file, so Nick went down to pick him up. He's meeting us at the lab with Bob." Greg placed his hand on hers, which was resting in her lap.

Stephanie turned to him, "Greg thank you so much for all you've done for me. You took me into your home; you saved my cat…twice." She paused, "why did you do all this for me?"

Greg eased the car into a stop at one of the last red lights before they reached the lab, "because," he said as he looked into her eyes, "I care about you…and your cat."

Stephanie laughed, then turning serious once more, "I care about you too Greg."

The pair returned to silence, but this one was different. She remembered what her best friend in high school had always said about relationships, he said 'it's when you can sit in silence and never feel the need to say a word.' Stephanie had never felt that with anyone other than him, until now, with Greg. He was like her best friend and her boyfriend all rolled into one. When they were within a few mere minutes of the lab, Greg realized that he really did need to bring Stephanie up to speed with the case, "Stephanie, there's one thing you need to know before we go in there," he paused, she looked at him, confused, "the reason that you were attacked, it wasn't because you were working the case. You were targeted because of something that happened to you, or someone you knew. You see, the WCCC went after people who were affected by serial killers in the past; he went after you because of that. Before we can figure out what really happened, we need to know what happened to you."

Stephanie was shocked; she thought that she had finally been able to escape her past. She'd moved a half a dozen times, provinces, countries, what would it take to escape the secret that had taken control her life? She looked at Greg, his innocent face, if she told him it could change everything. Could she risk that? Then she realized that she didn't have a choice, if they were going to find who attacked her, she would have to tell them what had happened that night fifteen years ago.

"Fifteen years ago, my family and I were living in a small town, a very tight knit community. I was nine, my older sister Isabella was supposed to be taking care of me while my parents were out at a dinner party. Our younger sister was at a friends house, Isabella was sixteen, and she'd just gotten her license and I convinced her to take us out for ice cream, even though Mum and Dad said not to leave the house, and that the car was only for emergencies. But I convinced her. We were in line at the counter when a man approached us, asking Isabella if she had any jumper cables, because his car wouldn't start. Isabella was so friendly, she never saw a single wrong in anyone, and she always insisted that everyone had a bit of good inside." Stephanie's eyes welled up with tears. Greg could see where this was going; he'd seen it happen too many times before with cases in the past.

"You don't have to tell me now if you're not ready," Greg pulled the car over to the curb, allowing himself to give her his full attention.

"No," Stephanie shook her head, wiping away the tears which had formed around her eyes. She remembered that night so vividly, the sound of her sister's screams, the look on her parents faces, the way the police officer treated her like she was stupid, and most of all she could never forget the man's face. "If they're going to find the truth I have to tell you what happened. The man at the ice cream place dragged my sister and I behind the store and raped us. Then he hit her over the head and dragged her unconscious body to his car the he picked me up and threw me in the trunk. I yelled for help but no one heard me. I remember the car stopping, I heard Isabella screaming, then it stopped. The car startedand we drove for a bit then itstopped again. He came round and opened the trunk. He dragged me out and pulled out a gun. Before I knew what happened he had me pinned against the ground, he put the gun to my headbut when he pulled the trigger I managed to free my hand and knock the gun. The first shot missed, then I wrestled the gun from him. And, I…I…I shot and killed him," Stephanie paused here, "an hour later someone saw our car in the parking lot and recognized it as my parent's car, it was a friend of my parents. She called the police who set up a search for my sister and I. They found me that night, but they never found my sister till three days later when a farmer two towns over found her body in his field. She'd been beaten to death. It was thelast out of the twenty attacks that year. I was the only one to survive. It was all my fault that she died." Stephanie broke down in tears.

Greg leaned over to comfort her, "Stephanie, this wasn't your fault. There's nothing you could have done to have stopped what happened. You know that, we see these cases every day; serial killers target their victims months in advance. This wasn't your fault, there's nothing you could have done." Greg couldn't bear tell her the rest, that Vernada wasn't supposed to kill her, that Vernada was going to give her, her own assignment. To rape and kill a sixteen year old girl, just as her sister had been attacked. He pulled her into him, she sobbed into his shirt. Once her sobs had subsided Stephanie felt ashamed of what had just happened she reminded Greg that Grissom would be expecting them any minute now. Greg obliged and pulled the car back on the road. They pulled into the lab's parking lot moments later. "You ready?" Greg asked Stephanie cautiously, she nodded silently. Greg hopped out of the car and ran round to the other side to open the car door for Stephanie and help her into the lab. Upon seeing the crumpled and defeated look on her face Greg embraced Stephanie in a friendly hug. She leaned into him, grateful for the added comfort. At the point Nick pulled up beside them.

"Anybody want a cat?" He asked, motioning to the back seat of his Tahoe. Stephanie could see a cardboard pet carrier perched on the back seat.

"Oh, Nicky thank you!" Stephanie exclaimed, feeling extremely overwhelmed by the events of the past hour. Greg and Nick laughed wholeheartedly as Stephanie was reunited with her cat. Bob purred loudly as Stephanie sat in the back on Nick's Tahoe cradling the cat.

Stephanie put the cat back in his carrier and proceeded to the lab with Nick and Greg.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Jules is pronounced like _jewels_. Also as a reminder, Mark is Stephanie's friend from high school mentioned in the last chapter. Just to clear things, he and Jules are not dating, just good friends. Anyways, enjoy! And please review!

Disclaimer: I still don't own CSI, but, it's my new years resolution. So I'll keep working on it.

Ch.19

Stephanie leaned back into the tub, sipping her glass of white wine. She was so relieved to be off of the pain medication. It was just another worry crossed off her list. A gentle knock came at the door, "come in," Stephanie said softly as she strategically arranged the bubbles in the water.

"Hey," Greg said cautiously, not to sure where to look. "I was just wondering how you were feeling, and I, uh, made some dinner."

"I'm doing okay thanks," Stephanie said, "a little shook up, regarding the circumstances, but other than that okay." Nothing could have prepared Stephanie for what she had faced that day at the lab. She had pushed herself very far in telling Greg the story of what happened to her and Isabella, but telling the rest of the team was even harder. As it happened, everyone had a story. Some where more widely known than others, and some, like Stephanie's were more hidden and secretive. She regretted not being more open about it in her past; perhaps it could have prevented the events of the past week.

After dinner Stephanie sat down at her laptop which Catherine had brought from her apartment the other day. She felt bad using Greg's phone to call her family, with it being a long distance call and all. So she opted to use his internet connection instead and email them.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I'm sorry for not keeping in touch over the past few days, I'm sure you must be worried sick. I promise I'm doing fine. Greg is being the perfect gentleman in taking care of me, he even made me dinner tonight. (See Mum, I told you I'd find a man who can cook!) _

_I'll be off of work until the doctor says that I'm ready. I have another appointment booked next week. Despite all of this, I am a little eager to get back out into the field. I'm officially off of the pain meds as of this morning, so if won't be long before I can drive on my own. I think Greg will be glad not to have to be my chauffer anymore. _

_Unfortunately, I won't be able to return to my apartment until they're sure who's behind the attacks. Even then, I don't think I'll be able to go back there. Bob is safe with Greg and I (don't worry). Boy am I glad I rented my apartment; can you imagine trying to sell that place after what happened? Once I'm back at work I'm going to start looking at the market again. Greg says I can stay with him as long as it takes, but I don't want to overstay my welcome._

_Take care, and tons of love,_

_Stephanie_

Stephanie closed the laptop with a sigh, she missed her parents. Greg came and sat down beside her on the sofa and put his arm around her. She snuggled into his side, breathing in his scent. She could get used to this, staying at home, sleeping thirteen hours a day, then having the gorgeous Greg come home and cook for her. Unfortunately Greg had been bumped back to night shift, which meant that five nights a week he would be out at the lab. She missed being at the lab, the people, the thrill. But until her ankle healed properly the doctors said that she was better off at home. And Grissom, being the father figure that he had become, agreed with the doctors. He wanted Stephanie back on her feet just as soon as she did, but he wanted it done safely.

Stephanie leaned her head against Greg's shoulder and sighed softly. Greg had been dreading going back to night shift; he loved falling asleep with Stephanie in his arms. He loved waking up with her. He loved the way she smelled when she got out of the shower. He loved the way her hair curled around his fingers. He loved the way her head fit into the dip between his shoulder and his neck, like puzzle pieces, he thought to himself. Bob jumped up onto Stephanie's lap; she gently scratched him behind his ears. He loved the way she was so enthralled with this cat.

"Stephanie," Greg spoke up, "what do you say we go out to dinner tomorrow night, I have the night off. And I figured you could use the break from sitting around here all day."

"Wow Greg, that would be great. Any place in mind?" Stephanie's mind was already beginning to reel. 'This could be a date,' she thought, 'or, it could be dinner between friends.' There was only one thing Stephanie could think of doing, calling Jules, her best, female, friend from high school.

Greg explained that there was a new place on the strip that he was dying to try. Apparently Warrick took Tina there and it was a big hit. So after Greg left for the lab Stephanie picked up the phone and dialed Jules' number.

"Hey Jules, its Steph."

"Oh my gosh, Steph, Mark called and told me what happened. Are you okay? Everyone back home's been worried sick about you!" Jules sounded a little bit panicked, which was quite odd for her. It was hard for Stephanie to realize that while what had happened to her had already sunk in, but for her friends back home it was still happening.

"Jules, I'm fine. Don't worry. Anyways, I'm staying with Greg." Stephanie knew what would follow this.

"You're living with a guy! And I haven't even met him yet! I thought we agreed that neither of us moved in with a guy until the other one has met him!" Jules joked. Back in high school she and Jules had promised that should either of them meet a guy and want to move in with him that he would have to meet the other half's approval.

"Jules, it doesn't make much sense flying you in from New York to meet Greg just because I was attacked by a serial killer." Jules had moved to New York with Mark after high school to study make up while Mark studied acting. Jules was now working fashion shows and Mark was on Broadway. Each had made their ridiculous dreams come true. "Anyways Jules, I have a hard time believing that you haven't moved in with a guy yet. Besides, Greg and I are not living together. I'm simply staying him until I can get a new place. My apartment is currently a crime scene, and Greg offered to let me live with him till my ankle healed and I could get a new place."

"Sure," Jules mimicked. "So why did you call? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to talk to you whenever Steph. But you don't usually call out of the blue, I mean, I had to hear about this whole serial killer thing from Mark who heard about it from James who heard about it from Damian who heard it from your sister." Jules recited the lengths it took to hear about her friends 'incident', as she and Greg referred to it as. It turns out that her sister had married Damian, one of Stephanie's friends from high school. Damian was friends with James, Stephanie's old high school boyfriend, who kept in touch with Mark frequently as he was in Toronto, a few hours from New York. It really took Stephanie back to relive those memories. She could hardly believe that Lana and Damian had been married for over a year. She still remembered the day they met. "Steph, you still there?" Jules called into the phone impatiently. "You do realize its 3am here right?"

"Jules, I know you don't sleep." Stephanie called her on her claim. "I didn't tell you about what happened because I was fine. I didn't want to worry you guys. Do you remember what happened when I lost my voice and didn't come to school for two days. Mark went off the wall, he was a wreck. What do you think he would do if he found out that I'd been kidnapped by a serial killer?"

"Okay, I see your point." Jules paused for a moment, "if you didn't call because you'd been kidnapped, what the heck happened now?"

"Greg's taking me to dinner tomorrow night. He's got the night off and he wants to take me to a new restaurant on the strip," she paused as Jules 'ooed' and 'awed', "first of all, is it a date, or just a obligatory friends thing? Because Warrick, a guy from work, took his wife, Tina, there, does that mean its going to be a date? Second of all, what the heck am I supposed to wear?"

Jules laughed for about a full five minutes. Finally she gained control of herself, "Steph sweetie, do you realize that after all these years we're still emotionally in high school? I swear we had this conversation about James back in the ninth grade, minus the husband stuff naturally. Sweetie, a dinner is what you make of it, if you make it a date then it's a date, if you make it dinner between friends then its dinner between friends. It all comes down to what you want it to be."

Stephanie thought about this long and hard about this. She defiantly saw herself with Greg, but she didn't know if this was the right time to start something. She was still new at her job and didn't want to form her reputation off by hooking up with the first guy she meets at the lab. While this was true, she did remember feeling Catherine and Nick pushing them together before the 'incident'. "I want it to be a date," she said defiantly.

"That's my girl!" Jules proclaimed, "all we have to do is find you an outfit. Let's see, it's been a few years since I've been in your closet so you'll have to give me a second. Dinner on the strip, lots of lights, and you said that guy from work took his wife there," not waiting for a reply from Stephanie she continued, "so I'm thinking romantic, low lights, soft music. Do you still have the make up charts I emailed you?"

"Yep, use 'em every day."

"Good thing, I'll email you a new one I used for on of the shows last week. Now tell me about this Greg guy, what's he like?"

"Jules do you realize how hard that's going to be?" Stephanie complained.

"Just do it Steph, or I'll call you Stephi!" Jules threatened as Stephanie cringed at the use of her old high school nick-name.

"Okay, he's the kind of guy who wears chucks with everything. He's into Manson and NIN. Kind of like your stuff," Stephanie remembered how long Jules had tried to get her into that kind of music. Little did she know it was only prep for the time she'd spend with Greg, "He's from California, so he's punky with a preppy vibe. Think Mark meets Cameron." Mark had been so preppy, almost before his time. Mean while Cameron was so punky he almost restarted the trend. "He's funny and sweet, and caring. Jules, I'm crazy about him. I just need to find the perfect thing, I want the night to be perfect."

"Alright, sounds easy enough to deal with. Do you still have the black dress you wore to Mark's premiere last year?"

Stephanie limped over to Greg's guest closet where she had temporarily set up camp. She pulled out a black cocktail length strapless dress with two gauzy strands of fabric she had sewn onto the bust. The strands ran up to form a halter-style neckline. The dress was fitted through the waist and flared out to a full skirt. Stephanie smiled as she remembered Mark's first Broadway premiere. That night had been the first time the trio had reunited since high school. Mark had done fabulous in his first lead role. "Yah, I still have it."

"Okay, that'll be our starting point. Walk me through your closet, what else do you have?"

Stephanie fingered through several dresses hanging in the closet. Being best friends with an actor had its perks; she'd been to so many premieres that the sad thing was most of her dresses never made it to their second run. "Oooo," she cooed, "I bought this one when I moved here, just as a precaution." Jules and Stephanie always joked that they had to have a back up dress for when Mark would spring shows on them like back in high school. They'd never forget the night he surprised them with a trip to the opera. They were the only two there in jeans and skate shoes. "It's a light pink-ish peach satin fitted dress which flares out at its low waistline, the waistline is defined by a simple seam where there's a jeweled broach. It's got a vintage lace overlay which lets the satin peek through at the top over the bust and along the middle."

Stephanie waited Jules approval. Instead what she received was a squeal like she hadn't heard since they got their university acceptance letters. "Eeeeee! Stephi that sounds gorgeous! He won't be able to keep his eyes off you. Pair it with my black strappy stilettos, which by the way you still owe me a pair of shoes. Okay, email me a photo of the dress and I'll get to work on hair and make up."

Stephanie was thrilled to know that she had that taken care of. She and Jules talked briefly about life in New York. She had to hide how envious she was that Jules and Mark were still so close. Eventually both Stephanie and Jules tired. Stephanie needed sleep and Jules had to prepare for a show in the morning. They bid their farewells; Jules promised Stephanie that she'd have the charts and hair plan sent by morning. All she had to do was take a trip to Sephora and get to work.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: Well, birthdays, christmas, most major holidays have come and gone. Don't worry, I'll still accept the rights to CSI as a belated gift, I won't mind.

A/N: Hi everyone! Just a big thank you to everyone whos been reviewing! Please keep reviewing, I hope you all really like this chapter!

Ch. 20

By the time morning came Stephanie was eager to get to work on her 'evening out look'. The swelling in her ankle had gone down; she figured her feet could take a short evening in high heels. Stephanie had made a quick shopping trip early on in the day to pick up a few essentials which she was missing to make her look complete. Including earrings, a necklace and a new lipstick; which according to Jules was all the rage right now on the runway, thanks to her. Stephanie could tell that her old friend loved the power she had over what was hot and new.

Before she knew it half the day had gone by. By the time the clock struck four she decided it was time to begin getting ready for their six o'clock reservations. She opened her lap top to reveal the make up chart Jules had sent over. It was smoky brown eyes with glowing cheeks and a neutral pink lip. For hair she set out a loose bun, tied at the nape of the neck. But instead of the sleek bun Jules usually set out for Stephanie when she was dancing, Jules set this one up to require loose, but firm curls to give her hair lots of volume and depth. Along with her instructions Jules had included a short note:

_Dear Stephi,_

_As usual follow instructions by the letter and it'll be like I'm right beside you back stage. Knock him dead, I know you can!_

_Tons of love,_

_Jules and Mark! _

_P.S. We want pictures! We want evidence, Miss. CSI!_

Stephanie laughed as she closed the email, remembering how many times Jules had helped her get ready back stage at dance competitions. She'd always said that so long as her lashes were thick and long the judges couldn't help but give her first.

The clock ticked on and before she knew it she was done. She put on her shoes and added the last touch by applying a coat of transparent pink polish to her toes. With a final glance in the mirror Stephanie headed out of the guest room to greet Greg, who was waiting patiently on the couch.

"Wow," a more adorable than usual Greg managed to make out, "you look…amazing."

"Why thank you Gregory, you don't look too bad yourself." Greg blushed at this. He was wearing a black suit, with a deep olive green tie that complemented her dress quite nicely, and of course, his chucks. As Stephanie wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and grabbed her purse Greg offered his arm and gently led her down the steps to his car.

On the way to the restaurant the talked amicably about back when he worked DNA, current work at the lab, and their pasts. Stephanie enjoyed hearing crazy tales of Greg growing up with his sisters, while he enjoyed hearing some of the experiences Stephanie had gained from moving around. Once they reached the restaurant Greg came round to open Stephanie's door before handing the keys off to the valet. Inside the restaurant Greg took Stephanie's hand and they followed the waitress to their table, indicated by a _Reserved _sign. It was an elegantly set table for two, complete with candles and a bottle of Dom Perignon. Stephanie tried as hard as she could to contain the excitement which was building up inside her. They ordered drinks and were brought their menus. Stephanie's heart jumped as she noticed the band set up on the stage in the corner of the restaurant. They began to play a simple but elegant, smooth, jazzy tune. Stephanie sighed as she remembered her days in high school as a band geek. "Tell me Greg, where you ever in band?" She asked motioning to the band onstage.

A smile crossed Greg's face, "yeah, drums. God, I miss that. How 'bout you, lemme guess…someone like you, I'd have to say…flute."

"You certainly are more talented than you first let on, but you're still only about a fifth of the way there." Stephanie paused for a dramatic effect, "flute, piano, guitar, baritone and tenor sax."

"I see," Greg thought out loud. "So you were the one who liked the attention. Flutes sit in the front row, and saxophones make the most noise, and get the most solos. Miss. O'Neil, I do believe I have figured you out. Maybe I should skip the field and go into profiling."

"I wouldn't think quite so fast Mr. Sanders. You missed one thing about my band career."

"And that is?" Greg questioned. It was apparent that she had caught his interest.

"Well, a true profiler would have realized that my constant switching of instruments could mean two things. If I was talented at the instruments it would mean that I was in constant need of an outlet for creative energy, but if I just plain 'sucked' than it would mean that I tired easily, restless."

"Well, what were you? Talented?"

"Very." Stephanie stated simply.

"Then I guess that's why you're the profiler." Greg teased.

"I guess it is," Stephanie replied. Before she knew what was happening Greg took her hand in his. At this gesture her heart skipped a beat. Greg turned her hand over in his own.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," Greg started. Stephanie tried her hardest to contain herself. "For the past week, we've been getting closer. I don't know if you feel the same way, if you don't than please just forget I ever said anything, but if you do, well, I think we really could have something here. So please, don't feel like you have to say anything." Greg waited patiently as Stephanie contemplated her answer.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long. "Greg," Stephanie began shakily, slowly gaining her confidence as she went on. "From the time I moved here, I didn't know anyone, but you always made room for me. You included me. You even let me live with you after all that's happened. For that, there's nothing I could ever do to show you what that means to me. But Greg, I want to spend as long as I can showing you, just how much it means." Wordlessly Greg and Stephanie each leaned across the table and kissed. It was one of the most passionate and intense kisses Stephanie had ever felt, she felt her knees go weak, her hands stopped shaking. The rest of the restaurant, the strip, the city, all of it melted away. It was just the two of them, locked in that eternal moment. It was the first time Stephanie had felt pure, unadulterated bliss.

A/N: If you want to see what Stephanie's dress looks like, a link toa pic of the dress can be foundon my profile.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: I know this is insanly short, I appologize, but it's necessary to the story. Also, this takes place about a month after the last chapter. As always, I hope you enjoy. Please leave a review, even if you don't.

Ch. 21

Grissom paced the lab, waiting for Mia to finish running the latest sample of DNA which had been recovered from Vernada's hotel room at the Monte Carlo. Nick had recovered a print on the door handle of the agent's room and upon further investigation of the room he had found a used condom balled up in the trash bin of the room's bathroom. He sent it straight to the lab for DNA analysis, hoping that it would bring up a match to someone relevant to the case.

Mia rushed over to where Grissom was pacing the hallways between his office and the DNA lab, showing some of the enthusiasm Greg used to display during his days in the lab. "Grissom," she began, "you're going to want to see this for your self."

Grissom took the results sheet from her hands. "Are you positive Mia?" He asked.

"I ran in twice," Mia answered, "it's a definite match. All the markers line up. There's no doubt."

"Thank you Mia," Grissom mumbled as he walked off, his mind reeling at the latest development in the Milston/WCCC case.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Again, so sorry about how short the last chapter was. But, I am making up for it with this extremly long one! So please r&r! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Once again, CSI, not mine. Trust me, if it was, you'd notice.

* * *

Ch. 22

Greg tip toed across the room, cautious not to wake Stephanie as he came in late from work. Little did he know she was already awake. She had heard him come in a little over ten minutes ago. She heard him open the door, take off his shoes, and turn off the lights she had left on for him so that he wouldn't come home to complete darkness. She had heard him come into the bedroom, she snuggled deeper under the covers. A tiny part of her was still shy despite the fact that they'd been dating for over a month now. She watched as Greg slowly took off his CSI vest and laid it on the chair. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in the open hamper. Stephanie smiled to herself as she watched his lean and muscular form move across the room and sit down on the bed. 'Yes,' she thought to herself, 'that's _your_ boyfriend.'

Stephanie blinked as the sleep cleared from her eyes. Greg took a strand of her hair and twirled it through his fingers. "Sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Don't worry," Stephanie stage whispered, "I wasn't really sleeping anyways." Greg smiled at the beautiful girl lying in his bed. "Hurry up and get in here," Stephanie playfully tugged at his arm. Greg gently pulled back the covers and slid under them. Stephanie felt the warmth of his body next to hers. She curled in next to him; he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in closer. "How was your night?" Stephanie mock whispered.

"Fine, busy though. We're almost done with the Milston case. It looks like we've got him cornered with some DNA evidence." Stephanie relaxed into Greg's arms. She loved lying there listening to him talking about work at the lab. "Catherine brought Lindsay in this morning. Boy, has she grown. I still picture her as the toddler who used to come in and pretend to help me run samples." Stephanie glanced up at the look on Greg's face as he reminisced, "Everyone can't wait to see you back at the lab tomorrow. It's going to be great having you back at work again." At this Greg gently squeezed Stephanie in his arms, as if to reassure himself of her presence.

* * *

That morning Stephanie decided to serve an impromptu celebratory breakfast to mark her first shift back at the lab. She decided to make breakfast burritos. The only fool proof breakfast food, aside from toast that she knew how to make. She laid out the corn tortillas and salsa as she set to preparing the meal. She pranced through the kitchen listening to the soft Spanish music coming through the speakers. Despite the fact that it was six o'clock in the evening, it was early 'morning' to Stephanie and Greg. She was dressed in pink pajama pants, white camisole, and a large apron of Greg's she had found. 

She made her way over to the table and laid out knives and forks for both her and Greg. She set two glasses containing orange juice down next to each place setting. She set the table reminding herself of the etiquette lessons she had to take when she was younger. "Knives on the right, sharp end pointing in, forks on the left." She recited to herself under her breath. Once the table had been set to her approval she returned to the kitchen to finish the burritos.

With her back to the hallway which led to the bedroom she cracked a few eggs into a bowl and stirred them, singing along softly to the sensual lyrics. As she poured the mixture into a skillet on the oven Greg came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Whatcha doin?" He asked sleepily.

"I," she said proudly, "am making breakfast." She turned in his arms to kiss him good morning. His hair was curly and natural; his face still held pillow creases from the night before. She leaned in for a second kiss, she couldn't resist how adorable and hot he looked at the same time. "Here," she slid her arms out from his waist and placed a spoon in his hand. "Stir this," she instructed him.

"Putting me to work?" Greg asked mocking surprise.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am," Stephanie stated quite simply, leading him over a bowl on the counter. She picked up the dishtowel she had thrown onto her shoulder and began to dry some of the dishes in the dish rack. "And remember, no peeking at the table. It's supposed to be a surprise." She waggled a whisk at him.

"Ookay," Greg replied sheepishly, "if you insist."

Soon enough their breakfast is ready. Stephanie covered Greg's eyes with her hands, standing on her tip toes to reach. "Voila!" She said as she revealed her masterpiece. "Breakfast burritos, California style."

Greg turned to Stephanie where she stood behind him, "I have no idea how lucky I am, do I?"

"Not in the foggiest." With that she reached up and gave him a big kiss on the cheek before turning to take off her apron.

* * *

By the time Greg and Stephanie had reached the lab the rest of the team was gathered in the break room waiting for the return of their once fallen teammate. Greg walked in ahead of Stephanie, as she followed in behind him four tired heads turned. 

"Hey! Welcome back!" Nick started off the rounds of typical greetings. Stephanie made her way into the room as Greg held her hand protectively. While she had been excited about returning to work, a tiny part of her was nervous about coming back.

"Hi Nicky," Stephanie greeted her friend and college warmly with a large hug. This was only to be followed by hugs and greetings from the rest of the team. While Stephanie caught up with the rest of the team six pagers simultaneously went off. "Grissom," everyone said in unison.

A few short moments later Stephanie, Greg, Sara, Nick, Warrick and Catherine were gathered in Grissom's office. After a brief welcome to Stephanie, Grissom cut to the chase. "We have a new lead on the Milston case," he began.

The rest of the team was in shock, "how could this be?" Catherine wondered out loud, "we have Vernada's confession and solid evidence labeling him as the WCCC. It's a rock solid case."

"It's not that easy," Grissom began to explain, "the condom which Nick found in the hotel bathroom garbage has traces of DNA from both Milston and Vernada."

"Okay, we know he has a history of rape. He probably assaulted her when he forced her into doing his dirty deeds." Catherine retorted in disbelief.

"Unfortunately, that was our first conclusion. But we compared the rape kit one of the nurses took when Vernada was brought in. It showed evidence of sexual activity but it didn't indicate rape. There were also no traces to send off for DNA analysis so we didn't think anything of it at the time." Grissom paused to allow what he was saying to sink in, "Brass questioned Vernada earlier this evening. It turns out that Vernada admitted to being sexually active with Milston, and it was consensual."

Stephanie stared at Grissom in disbelief. After all she had been through; she couldn't believe that this case had been through so many ups and downs. She knew that she would rarely come across a straight forward case, but she never thought to find herself in the middle of one.

"All Brass was able to get from Vernada was that she consented to having sex with Milston. Although it does indicate that she has other connections with Milston, it won't stand up in court." Grissom stated, horrified that for the second time Milston was in danger of being set free. There was only so long they can hold him without further charges.

"What do we need to do?" The team turned to Stephanie. No one had expected her to be the one to speak up.

"I'm sorry Stephanie, but we can't have you on this case. Unfortunately, any evidence you come forth with won't hold up in court. It's conflict of interest. I know that you can handle this, but Milston's got one of the best defense attorneys in the country. They're going to look for holes in the evidence. If they find it, he could go free, again." Grissom's last words hung in the air. It was something everyone was thinking, but no one dared fathom saying it. "In the mean time, Stephanie, you'll be assigned to desk work, unrelated to the case. As for the rest of you, we need an advanced back ground check on Vernada. Look for anything, absolutely anything tying her to Milston. We also need to go over that hotel room, Milston's apartment, and review all the crime scenes for something connecting either of them." With that Grissom turned back to his desk, signaling to the rest of the team to get to work.

Stephanie would have stood there all day had Greg not led her out of the room. She thought that after the events of the last month she could do anything, but every new development hit her harder than the last.

* * *

At the end of shift the team surprised Stephanie with a night on the town. Stephanie turned to Greg in surprise, "you knew about this didn't you?" She teased him. 

"Hey," he started, in his defense, "you need the night out. Come on, it'll be fun. We'll go out, maybe a little dancing, some drinks, and then maybe afterwards, we could-"

Stephanie cut him off at this point, "okay, I give up. You win." With that she kissed Greg gingerly on the lips, Warrick and Nick began applauding. Stephanie and Greg smiled with a mixture of glee and embarrassment, neither had remembered the other two were in the room.

"So, we'll all go home, change, and meet at the Highball, seven o'clock." Warrick ran off the plan for the evening.

"Sounds good," Stephanie struggled to say through laughter as Greg wound his arms around her waist.

* * *

Stephanie stood in front of her closet back at Greg's place, fingering through a series of outfits. Finally she settled on a low cut, black halter top, dark jeans and black stilettos. She ran a brush through her hair and touched up her make-up. Once satisfied with her appearance she made her way into the living room to see Greg pacing the kitchen fiddling with his keys. She snuck up behind him and placed her hands over his eyes, "guess who," she whispered. 

"Hmm, Grissom?" Greg took a guess.

"Funny," Stephanie removed her hands, "very funny." Greg returned to his keys as Stephanie threw some lipstick and a cell phone into a black clutch purse. "You ready to go funny guy?"

"Hmm?" Greg looked blankly at Stephanie, "oh, yah. I'm ready."

"Greg," Stephanie walked over to where he was standing, "are you okay?"

Greg ruffled his hair, "I don't know," he started. Seeing the look of discomfort on his face Stephanie took his hand and led him over to the couch.

"Greg," Stephanie began, hoping to get him to open up. On the inside she kicked herself for being able to do this type of thing so easily at work, but when it came to her own relationships she was more or less lost. "Talk to me, something's bugging you. What's going on?"

Greg looked at the girl sitting across from him. How could he tell her that he was nervous about taking her out with the team? No matter how he put it, it would come out sounding wrong. "The thing is, I don't know how the guys are going to react when they find out that we're dating. They treat me like their little brother, and well, when I brought my first high school girlfriend home to my sisters, well, let's just say I don't want to relive that again."

Greg trailed off at this point, leaving room for Stephanie to take over. "Greg," she began, "I think it's a bit late for the guys to start in on us. I know for sure that Cath and Nick have been pushing us together since day one. I don't really think this is going to be big news to them."

Finally a smile cracked Greg's sweet face. He wrapped his arms around her protectively. "You're right you know."

"I know," Stephanie shot back at him, "and I also know, that if we don't leave now we're going to be late. Then, we'll never hear the end of it."

"Okay, let's hit the road then." Greg, seeming to have regained his energy, sprung off the couch and opened the front door. "Come on, don't want to be late," he imitated her.

By the time the pair arrived at the bar the rest of the group was gathered around a small table. Warrick, standing with an arm around Tina, was the first to see the two walk in the door. "Finally," he called out, "thought we'd have to start this without you!" Once everyone was assembled they made their way down the strip to a nearby club.

At the club, the lights were low and the music was fast paced. Warrick and Tina immediately made a move for the dance floor as Nick grabbed Sara's hand and pulled her onto the floor. (Not without much protest from Sara.) Catherine took one look at Grissom, who immediately sat down at the bar, shaking his head at her as he ordered a dry martini, entirely content to sit back and watch the rest of his team make a fool of themselves, without putting himself at risk. Catherine spotted someone across the room and before Grissom could blink she was gone. Grissom look at Greg and Stephanie, the lab's latest blossoming couple. He leaned forward to usher them onto the floor but before the words left his mouth the two were gone. Grissom surveyed what had become of his team. Warrick was slow dancing with his wife, Nick and Sara were dancing across the room, Catherine was talking intently with a waitress and Greg and Stephanie were dancing seamlessly, hip to hip.

Stephanie laid her head on Greg's chest as the music slowed to a classic slow tune. The pair rocked back and forth as the rest of the group had retired to the bar. Nick and Catherine were glowing as they watched over a month's worth of pushes and shoves finally blossom into what they had hoped it would soon become.

Greg gazed down at the top of Stephanie's head. She was lost in the jazzy music, swaying expertly in time to the beat. It still boggled his mind as to how she had chosen him. Working in the same lab with Nick, and the newly 'off-the-market' Warrick didn't exactly make picking up girls easy (especially when most of the girls he saw on the job were either dead or criminals).

With her arms draped around his neck, Stephanie felt his hands on her hips, pulling her closer into him. She loved the burning sensation of his skin against hers. As the song slowed to an end Stephanie looked up to see Greg gazing at her adoringly. She blushed at this discovery, amazed at how fast their connection had grown. Greg leaned down to kiss Stephanie softly, the perfect finale to their last dance of the night.


	23. Chapter 23

Ch.23

As she slid her key into the lock of the front door Stephanie stifled a yawn. She'd worked her second consecutive shift that night. While the rest of the team was working on recovering further evidence concerning the WCCC, Stephanie had been assigned to desk work. Even if the others were maddeningly busy, so was Stephanie. The only difference was, her work was no where near as exciting as the other's. It turned out that Grissom wasn't the only one who liked to avoid paperwork; Stephanie had spent two shifts going over old reports from over two years back.

Once she entered the apartment Stephanie noticed that Greg hadn't left any lights on for her like he usually did. 'Odd,' she thought to herself, 'oh well, he probably couldn't sleep with them on or something.' Fumbling through the apartment towards the bed room Stephanie tripped over Bob twice. Upon reaching the bed room she quickly unbuttoned her blouse and shimmied out of her pants, eager to get some much needed rest. Pulling an oversized 'Hard Rock Café: Las Vegas' tee-shirt (which she had bought on her first night in Vegas two months ago) over her head, she quickly climbed into bed. Greg was lying on his side with his back to her side of the bed; she slipped her arms around him and whispered softly, "hey babe, I'm home."

Oddly enough Greg didn't respond, usually he was slept quite lightly. She propped herself up on her elbow, it was then that she noticed how red his face was. She felt his forehead, worried he might be getting sick; he was burning up, his hair was matted to his head. Stephanie climbed out of bed and pulled off a layer of blankets, and then she went to the bathroom to grab a glass of water for Greg before waking him up.

Returning to the room with a glass of water in one hand and some aspirin in the other Stephanie tried to wake Greg. He didn't move. Stephanie panicked, a million thoughts ran through her head. How long had he been like this? Quickly she checked his pulse, it was low. Reaching over to the phone on the bedside table Stephanie made two phone calls, one to 911 and one to Grissom. While she waited for the ambulance to arrive she pulled on some sweat pants, meanwhile checking Greg's pulse every few minutes, checking for any changes in his condition.

* * *

Grissom ran into the hospital emergency room and up to the front desk where a bored looking nurse sat playing solitaire on her computer. "Excuse me ma'am, I'm looking for Sanders, Greg. He was brought in earlier this evening."

A harried looking Stephanie looked up to see Grissom standing impatiently at the front desk. She ran up to meet him, relieved to see a familiar face. "Grissom," she began, talking a mile a minute, "thank you so much for coming down. They won't let me see him since I'm not family. I don't know what's going on!"

Grissom looked at Stephanie, she looked distressed, worse than she had when they'd found her in the basement of the lab. She was dressed in sweats and an oversized tee-shirt, her hair tied high off her face using an elastic band. Grissom, knowing a girl like Stephanie, knew that she would never use an elastic band on her hair. He put an arm around her shoulder as she began to cry, "Okay, let's go sit down. And you can tell me what happened, then we'll try and go see him."

Stephanie fought back tears to try and tell Grissom just what had happen earlier that night. She knew how important the details would be, so she tried to include everything she could remember. "I came home at 8. I'd worked swing and night shift. But Greg only worked swing tonight so I told him to go home without me at the end of his shift. He took the Denali and I took my Passat, he would have arrived home around twelve thirty. I came in at eight, I went straight to the bedroom to let him know I was home and try to get some sleep. I got into bed and told him I was home, he didn't respond. I felt his forehead, it was too hot. So I pulled off the covers and went to get him some aspirin and some water, assuming it was just a fever. I came back and tried to wake him up…" Stephanie trailed off at this point as her words turned to tears. She wiped her eyes on the hem of her shirt.

Grissom took her hand, "I know this is hard, but we need to know what happened to him."

Stephanie nodded, "I know," she paused before continuing. "When I couldn't wake him, I called 911 and then I called you. I kept checking his pulse until the paramedics got to the apartment. And now, I'm here." Once again Stephanie collapsed into sobs. Grissom handed her a handkerchief to dry her eyes.

"Okay, thank you. You did good. Did you bring your badge?" He asked.

"No," Stephanie stuttered. "I left it in my purse at the apartment. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Grissom reassured her. "We can get through on mine, come on." He took Stephanie's arm and led her up to the desk. Flashing his badge he spoke to the nurse once more, "I'm looking for Greg Sanders; I'm Gil Grissom with the crime lab. It's impertinent that we see him as soon as possible."

The nurse typed a few things into her computer before turning to Grissom and Stephanie, "He's in curtain three, but I need identification on her." She looked down at Stephanie with a sneer.

It was all Stephanie could do not to jump over the counter and tackle the snarky nurse for talking to her like that, but before she could react Grissom was ushering her down the hall with no more than a "she's with me," thrown in the nurse's direction.

Pulling back the curtain Grissom and Stephanie both laid eyes upon Greg at the same time. Grissom didn't have a chance to hold her back, Stephanie ran over to the bed where Greg was lying, hooked up to a multitude of beeping machines. She gripped his hand, silently urging him to wake up. "He's been stabilized, but shouldn't wake up for another hour or so."

"Oh," Stephanie mumbled as she stroked Greg's cheek. "What happened to him?" She questioned the doctor.

"We're running blood tests right now; we've given him a dose of general antibiotics. He seems to be responding well to treatment. I'm afraid I can't reveal any further information to anyone but family."

"Thank you doctor," Grissom stated simply, "I'll be contacting Mr. Sander's family right away." With that the doctor left. Grissom turned to Stephanie, "We're going to need to reach Greg's family back in California. I can do it if you'd like, but Mrs. Sander's need's to know what's happened to Greg."

"No, I can do it. I'll tell her."

* * *

Twenty minutes later Stephanie stood in front of a pay phone, dialing the number for Greg's parents for the fifth time. She hung up before she could finish dialing. What would she say, hi, I'm Stephanie, I'm dating your son and now he might be dying? How could she tell them, when not even she knew what was going on?

Finally, Stephanie gathered up the courage to dial the number. It began to ring. A woman's voice answered after the third ring. "Hello, Sanders residence."

"Hello, Mrs. Sanders?" Stephanie questioned shakily.

"Yes, this is Mrs. Sanders."

"Mrs. Sanders, I'm Stephanie O'Neil. I work at the crime lab with Greg, here in Nevada."

"Oh lord!" Came the voice on the other end of the line, "he's been shot hasn't he! I told him not to take that job. I told him to be a doctor. But would he listen to me, noooo! He had to take the job miles away from home, then go out into the field and now he's gotten himself shot!"

"Mrs. Sanders," Stephanie interrupted the woman, "Greg hasn't been shot. He's sick. We think he may have been exposed to something. We don't know what, or where he was exposed. The doctors won't tell us anything because we're not family. The doctors will only talk to a relative about Greg's condition." At this point Stephanie broke down into tears.

"Oh dear, Shhh. Don't worry, he'll be fine. I'll be on the next flight down. I should get there within a few hours. Don't you worry, okay? Greg's been through worse than this, he'll pull through."

On the other end of the phone, Mrs. Sanders sounded motherly and comforting. "Yes, ma'am, thank you."

After saying their goodbyes, Stephanie hung up the phone and made her way back to Greg and Grissom.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** Hi everyone! I hope you like this part, I'm introducing another character, it'll be pretty obvious who. I'm sorry to all of you for making you worry about Greg, but without bad things you can't define the good. Anyways, thanks for all the reviews, keep 'em coming! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** If you still think that I own CSI, than I think you have bigger issues than the discrepancies as to which TV show's I do and do not own.

Ch.24

Lise Sanders stepped out of the taxi which had stopped in the emergency parking lot of the hospital where her son was staying. She pushed the normal maternal thoughts of worry out of her head and focused on dealing with the situation at hand. Raising Greg had meant many hospital trips, broken bones, sprains, stitches, you name it, Greg did it. By the time he was five Lise was on a first name basis with the local paramedics. She wasn't a bad mother, Greg was simply, mischievous.

Before Lise even made her way up to the front desk, a man whom she recognized as Greg's boss approached her. "Mrs. Sanders?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm Mrs. Sanders. Please, call me Lise." She said friendlily, trying to judge the seriousness of Greg's condition based on this man's tone.

"Lise, I'm Gil Grissom, Greg's supervisor. I'm afraid we don't know much about Greg's current condition. This is Dr. Steven's," he said, motioning to a young doctor talking to the nurse at the front desk. "He's been treating Greg."

"Mrs. Sanders, I presume." The young doctor spoke to Lise.

"Yes, where's Greg now?" The doctor led Lise wordlessly to a curtained off section of the emergency room. As he pulled back the curtain Lise braced herself for what might be on the other side of the curtain. Instead of the casts and stitches that she had come accustomed to when Greg was younger she saw Greg lying on a hospital bed, unconscious. His face was red and covered in sweat. He was hooked up to a multitude of machines, including an IV drip. It wasn't until after a few awkward moments of standing in the entrance way to the make-shift room that she noticed the young girl sitting next to Greg's bed holding his hand and stroking his cheek slowly, as if her very life depended on it. At first glance the girl looked to be about Greg's age, she looked like one of those flawlessly beautiful girls, the kind who could look good in next to anything. Which she proved in her oversized tee-shirt and sweatpants, her hair falling out of a high ponytail. The girl silently wiped tears from her eyes, not aware of the third person in the room.

The doctor broke the silence, making the young girl suddenly aware of her presence. "Mrs. Sanders, I'd like to fill you in on your son's condition, but I'm afraid I need to do it in confidence. Would you like to go somewhere else?" He asked.

"No doctor, it's fine. She can hear it, I'm sure Gregory wouldn't mind." She motioned to the young girl who immediately got up from the bedside.

"Mrs. Sanders," she spoke shakily, Lise recognized her voice from their phone conversation earlier, "I'm Stephanie O'Neil, we talked earlier." She wiped her hand on a leg of her sweatpants before offering it to Lise.

"Hi, Stephanie, please, call me Lise." Turning from the tearful girl to the doctor she continued, "now, what's happened to Gregory?" She felt strange using his full name; she'd only used it when he was growing up if he was in trouble.

"Well Mrs. Sanders, your son's blood work shows that he was exposed to a small amount of a toxic substance. He's responding well to treatment, but we're still unsure of whether his severe fever is a result of the exposure or if it's unrelated-"

The girl interrupted the doctor, "I told you," she said impatiently, "he didn't show any signs of fever earlier. If it wasn't related a fever this severe would take days to build." Once she'd finished she looked down at the floor, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she spoke to Lise, rather than the seemingly obnoxious doctor.

"Don't worry dear," Lise reassured the girl. "How long has he been here?" She directed this at the doctor.

"He came in about three hours ago, he was unconscious at that point. The medication we have him are what's causing him to remain asleep. He should wake up within the next hour or so. Do you have any questions?"

"Will there be any long term effects of the exposure?" Lise asked, the young girl perked up, awaiting the answer to the question.

"Until we know what it was that he was exposed to, we won't know for sure. So far, there doesn't appear to be any permanent damage to his health. Granted, we will be monitoring his condition to ensure that the fever doesn't worsen."

"Thank you doctor, that'll be all." Lise dismissed the doctor. The young girl watched in amazement as the doctor obeyed Lise's commands.

"Can I get you anything Mrs. Sanders?" The young girl asked. She appeared to be nervous in Lise's presence.

"No dear, don't worry. You can stay here with Greg and I." The look of relief on the young girl's face was indescribable.

"Thank you ma'am." She responded, clearly grateful.

"Now tell me dear," Lise tried to strike up a conversation with the girl, "you work with Greg?"

"Yes ma'am," she looked down as she spoke. The poor girl looked exhausted. "I moved here in September, that's when I started working at the lab."

"Where'd you move here from?" Lise questioned, eager to find out what this girl's relationship was with her son.

"Canada."

"That's quite the move, I'm sure your parents weren't too pleased with that." Lise joked.

"No, they were a little less than pleased. I think they realized once I got the job here that I really wasn't going to stay at home at work with my dad." She laughed, "they were in denial for a long time."

Lise laughed, remembering how she and her husband had felt the exact same way when Greg got the letter from the lab. "So you met Greg at the lab then?" Lise questioned, pushing a little further towards what it was that she really wanted to know.

"Yes, it's a bit of a story actually." With that Stephanie filled Lise in on the events of the past two months.

Lise sat back into her chair and began to contemplate what Stephanie had just told her. "And after all that you're still working at that godforsaken lab?"

Stephanie laughed, "I think that's exactly what my parents said when they heard. Honestly, I love my work at the lab. It makes me feel like I'm actually making a difference, even if it's just paper work."

Lise saw the same familiar look in Stephanie's eye when Greg talked about moving into the field. "Now dear," she finally gathered up the nerve to ask the question that'd been burning ever since she'd walked into the room to see Stephanie sitting next to Greg, watching him so intently. "You and Greg, are you…together?" Greg had never been open with her about girlfriends. His sister's had never been to kind to him about bringing home girls, it was merely payback for the torture he had inflicted upon them and their first boyfriends. So it was natural for Lise to expect not to hear anything of girlfriends from Greg.

Stephanie looked from Lise sitting across the bed from her, and down to Greg's hand in hers, and back to Lise. "Well, I guess we are. It's been a confusing few months. As I'm sure you understand a lot has gone on lately and I don't really think any of us know where we stand anymore. But what I do know is that your son is amazing, he was there for me after the attack and I couldn't have asked for anything more. I don't know how you did it, but you raised an amazing son."

Lise blushed, amazed at the young girl before her. She found it hard to believe that all of this had gone on; meanwhile she was none the wiser. Lise found herself so immensely proud of her son for being such a, well, a grown up. It was hard living so far away from her son, seeing him once a year; she couldn't believe how much he'd changed in the last year. Lise got out of her chair and hugged Stephanie. "Thank you," she said.

"No," Stephanie replied through tears, "thank you. Greg has done me than I could have imagined. He's simply amazing."

While Lise had been aware of a few girlfriends Greg had through school, and some afterwards, she knew that this one was different. Stephanie seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. And while she was very pretty, she was also quite intelligent. Unlike many of his high school girlfriends, who had been complete airheads. She actually saw Stephanie as being a functional adult. She found that she immediately knew what it was that Greg saw in this girl. But what astonished her most was that she saw this girl as having a future with Greg.

* * *

The pair continued talking like this for an hour. Every once in a while a nurse would come in and change his IV or record something on a chart. Apparently he was doing well; one of the nurses had said that there should be a proper room opening up in a few hours. Stephanie listened intently to stories Lise told of Greg growing up. In the time since Lise had arrived, several people from the lab had stopped by to visit Greg. Unfortunately, like Grissom, eventually they all had to return to work. Lise had enjoyed meeting the people who Greg worked with. She even got to hear a few stories about what they referred to as Greg's 'crazier days' as a 'lab rat'. It turns out, more than a few people had a favorite Greg story.

* * *

An hour after Greg was moved up to his official room a nurse came in to inform Lise and Stephanie that Greg should be waking up within a few minutes. They could already see the difference in his, his temperature had returned to normal and he wasn't sweating as much. Both Stephanie and Lise were equally relieved to see Greg doing better.

The two women sat on either side of Greg eating from lunch trays that one of the nurses had brought up for them. Although it's technically against hospital policy for non-patients to have food in patient's rooms, Lise used her expert powers of hospital persuasion which she had acquired while Greg was younger and convinced the nurse to bring up two lunch trays. Before they knew it, the two were talking like old friends. Comparing tales of what Greg used to do, to what he does now. During such tense circumstances as these Stephanie found it useful to have someone as stable as Lise here with her. Stephanie's experiences with hospitals had never been positive ones, but Lise made it much easier.

* * *

Greg blinked his eyes open. Bright lights glared back at him from above. He could hear laughter, then silence. As his vision cleared two familiar faces came into view. Then, a voice broke the silence, "Greg?" It started cautiously, "you awake sweetie?" 

Greg rubbed his eyes reverently, his head throbbing as if he'd been hit by a semi. "I'm awake," he said groggily, "where am I?"

"Baby, you're at the hospital." This time it was Lise who stepped in; taking her son's other hand. Greg turned confusedly from his girlfriend to his mother. "Here," she said, "eat up, you've been out for a few hours."

It wasn't until his mother plopped the tray in his lap that he realized just how starved he really was. "What happened?" he asked, swallowing a mouthful of hospital vegetables.

"We were hoping you could tell us that actually," Stephanie responded, stroking Greg's hand. She couldn't believe how relieved she felt now that he was awake. "When I came home from the lab last night, you were unconscious. I-I called 911," once again Stephanie broke down to tears. She felt so foolish behaving like this; it was unbelievable, every time she went to talk about what happened she fell to pieces.

While tears fell from her eyes, Greg stroked her cheek lightly, wiping away the tears as they fell with one hand, holding up her chin with two fingers of the other. He sat up and kissed her delicately on the cheek. "Shhh, don't cry baby. Everything's alright. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that." Stephanie smiled through her tears, just then Lise cleared her throat. Greg turned his head to face his mother. "Mum, what are you doing here?"

"You're friend," she motioned to Stephanie with a wink, "called me."

Greg turned to Stephanie in disbelief, "you called my mother?" He laughed, stroking her hair, "you are too cute."

"They wouldn't tell me anything because I wasn't a relative. So Grissom said to call Lise. Good thing I did too, she really knows who to boss around here." Stephanie said in her defense. "Speaking of which, I need to call Grissom and let him know you're up."

Lise noted the look of remorse on Stephanie's face at the thought of her leaving Greg's side. "No, you stay here, I'll go call Grissom."

Stephanie looked up at Lise thankfully. She winked in return and left to go call Grissom.

Once Lise had left the room Greg turned to Stephanie and captured her in a kiss so passionate she thought she would faint. Once they broke their embrace she turned to him and very softly whispered, "I love you, Greg."

He looked deep into her eyes, as if searching her soul. Without skipping a beat he parted his lips, "I love you too Stephanie."

After a few moments Stephanie regained the use of speech. "I was so afraid. I thought I'd lost you. I didn't know what to do. If I hadn't stayed at work for a second shift then I would've been home and then you never would have…" Stephanie trailed off as once again Greg leaned forward, cupping her head in both his hands.

"I promise," he began, solemnly, "that I will never leave you. I will never, ever leave you. Okay?"

Stephanie grinned, and before capturing the very essence of the moment in a kiss, whispered, "okay."

It never dawned on the pair that Lise had returned from her phone call and was standing in the doorway, silently observing the magic moment between her son and his new infatuation.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: Seriously, you still think I own CSI? Wow, you really do have issues.

Ch.25

Lise stayed with Stephanie over the weeks it took until Greg was deemed well enough to return home from the hospital. They still hadn't discovered what it was that Greg had been exposed to, but nevertheless he was well and ready to come home. Stephanie enjoyed having someone to come home to after work. Lise proved to be one of the nicest people she had ever met. She would often greet her with a warm cup of tea after a hard day's work, just like her own mum used to back when she was in school. While she was beyond glad to see Greg coming home, she was sad that Lise was leaving so soon.

* * *

Greg drove his mother to the airport while Stephanie was at work. They had said their tearful goodbyes before Stephanie had to leave for the lab. Greg parked his Denali in the 'departures' parking lot. He got out of the car to fetch his mother's bags from the trunk. They walked through the airport to the gate. After stopping for a cup of coffee, Greg and Lise talked for a few minutes till it was time for her to catch her flight.

Just before Lise was about to go through the gate she reached her hand into the pocket of her jacket. Feeling something that had been in her pocket for years, just for emergency purposes, she turned around and ran towards Greg who was headed back to the parking lot. "Gregory! Wait for your mother!"

Greg turned around to see his mother racing after him, "Mum! Are you mad? What are you doing?"

"Gregory, I am not mad, simply forgetful." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. "Greg, ever since you turned twenty, I've carried this with me. Just in case." She handed the delicate box over to Greg, he looked at her quizzically. "Just open it, you'll understand." With that she kissed him on the cheek and ran to catch her flight.

Greg was left standing in front of the sliding doors of the airport. An elderly woman was yelling at him to move, he snapped back to reality and made his way back to the Denali.

Sitting in the Denali, Greg fished the box out of his pocket and carefully opened it. To his surprise inside the velvet box was a thinsilver band with a single diamond. He sat back into his seat in shock; it was his grandmother's wedding ring. She had left it to him when she died, but his mother wouldn't let him hold on to it for fear that he would lose it. Greg picked the ring out of the box, flipping it over in his palm in amazement. 'I guess it's just as good a sign as anything,' he thought to himself, 'it takes one hell of a lot for someone to impress my mother.' He knew that he couldn't possibly propose to Stephanie this early on in their relationship, he knew she'd never agree to anything that crazy. Despite all that, it's good to have options, and it was even better to know that his mother had deemed Stephanie worthy.

* * *

Back in the lab Stephanie was working furiously, trying to get through the mountain of paperwork in front of her when Sara came bursting into the room. "You are never, ever, ever in a million years going to believe what just happened!" Sara looked giddy. She'd never seen Sara look like this before. "We did it! It's over!"

Instantly Stephanie knew what she was talking about. "You're kidding, it's over? What happened?"

"Well, it's all thanks to your little lover boy. He went over the phone records from the hotel and was able to find that Vernada called Milston when she first got to town. Greg went to Milston's apartment and found that Milston's phone lines were bugged by his neighbor. He got that tapes, they're ligit. And Milston goes to trail next month, until then he's in jail. Can you believe it? But don't tell Greg I told you, he wanted to tell you himself." With that Sara hugged Stephanie, giggled and left the room.

Twenty minutes later Greg came bursting into the room, "you will never believe what your boyfriend did today. Go ahead, guess."

"Hmm," Stephanie mocked him, "aside from being gorgeous and brilliant and all around wonderful?"

"Yes, naturally," Greg laughed at her.

"Let's see," Stephanie chewed the tip of her pen, "sorry, outta guesses."

Greg looked defeated, but once again his face lit up as he began to fill Stephanie in on his latest triumph. His version was much longer and detailed than Sara's. She took joy in watching his face light up as he divulged in his own heroism. "…and that's how your amazingly gorgeous and brilliant boyfriend solved the biggest case of the year." He finished, waiting for applause.

Instead, Stephanie leapt up off her chair from behind the desk and linking her arms around Greg's neck,jumped up andwrapped her legs around his waist. She planted his face with a multitude of kisses. Pausing she pressed her forehead against his. "Thank you," she whispered before burying her face in his neck. "Thank you."

-fin-

A/N: I know, I'm sorry, I hate to end it too. Mabye if I get enough reviews I'll write a sequal. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and stuck with my writting, I love you all to peices! A bien tot!


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